



M 





f. .4. ^^.Ra.^■ ^ ^ ^ ‘^4(\V/h,<' 

? ? U.O_ * - -V. >. « 



; %o^ : 

: * 




i> ^ « 

'*v W T- ~ f- Afcp 


A 


h t '^bv^ %o^ :M 


« '^O ♦ ^osri&f^/» ^ ov ^ A 

» \o^ ♦ 


v-t.. • . . ->I'*”””’^^°!.' • 

n ^^vTr> « - aS»«^> *^. o C^'Co. r> 


\ \ 

ooxo ■' * * VdVl!^^ '^O 




■* '>r>s?^ o«S^E». "V-o* 

^O. 


o' ^ e o 


V 

Co /S" .''.fK^/h, «• 

V°“ 




»o . v*^ . * »' ^C> v.a,'V^o , i* ^ 

W '^ov^ fo 


?' \v 

^ « 5 i ♦ ^ is 



'^ov ® 

❖ «A Qo ^ ^j. ** 

v<* * * Ao,'“’“’>V * °*V 


* ^ J 


c’ 

“o 

O 


V““ VV *°^v*” “ V 
• \# :Mh\ ? 



?/ W/ \ ® 


^ov 








»o«o’ A° ,«o ^<P 
’•’' 8*9 « ' 



^ ^en i> 





NG 


'l 

i“ 


^ .3 Pi^ • Q <1 .Q ^ n 



*V0>, • o ^ o < 

^ ^yQsBrwW ^ XO C^ «j .rtvASK^^ ^ ^ * ^iT ^ ftM 

V a ® 'TocJ? ^ o V'V^ o p. ^ 


' ^ ^yQiKT^ « Vo cy <9 jCv\Sk//J7 a ■v j-^ ^ * %r Jr^'^ «> A\ 

o*<0^ 




> <^% 


<5>'*^^*'<S>‘' -f 

i 5* A; ; I 

l^p/ • 

♦^o' .‘i»; W ;;^& *^- 

^ . o/v*" * » * * l^Ab *““° O^ ■ 

T^. Hi^ ^ 


^ r* O’^ •• 

c?A X V«S®»>' ' <f^ -* ; 

• “ ^ '•' *«^o‘^“ * ‘■*j<^ co"®* ‘•'•♦^'^b 

» ^Ojs ♦ 

s‘ * * ' “ ” Ao'^ * O'.V* ” * . ^ 


"q* V"^ 

* ♦ ♦ ^ * O^ •/y. 


S>, 

y I? * ^ 


# '^o d^ I? 


.* V ^ ♦ 

‘ A <► <* 

o ^-fi 



‘^o-v yo' *m^» ^gv' 

' . . . X'^5*y , * 

' "%\ AM*'-\ 

Z° o * V'V^ ® 

‘ <^\ <^%jiA 

x:- A» ^ A ^ A 

cPx^S” ’ • • cot'i^*^>o 

/■<y - ^ov 


« «• ^ 


ggj 



















‘ l8 Your Reverence going my way? Can I give you a lift?’” (See p. 30 .) 




THE PILKINGTON HEIR 


BY 

»/ 

ANNA T. SADLIER 

n . 

AUTHOR OF 

The True Story of Master Gerard f “A Summer at IVoodville/* etc., etc. 




) ) ) ) ) > > ) 

) ) I ) 

) > ) j > > 

) ) > ) 

> ) • > ) 


) ))),-)), 
) ) > ) ) , 
) ) ) > > ) ) 

> ) ) > > ) 
>0)0 I ■) ^ ') ) 


) ) 

) ) 

) ) y 
) ) 



) ) ) 
) 

) ) 



j ' ) 

> 

) > ) 


> ) , ) ) ) 

’ ) ^ 

) ) ) ) 

) > j 

) > o o > 


NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO! 

BENZIGKR BROTHERS, 

Printers to the Holy Apostolic See. 


THt L'L ^'RYOF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copies Receiver! 

FEB 7 1903 

^ Copyright Entry 

m S3 

CLASS XXc. No 

.T ^ ^ ^ i 

COPY B. 


COPYRUSHT, 1903, BY BeNZIGER BROTHERS 


< f 
< 

C 


< ‘ 
< ( 
< < 
t < 


(- c 
«• e 
< c 

< « 



• • 


<• fr < t t • t c 

C C C ( 

< ( C « « ( 

t « 4 * 

< ( ^ « i e 


« «< 


< 



€ < C 
C 

C I 
« 

< c c 





< #- 1 


V e 

c 

« 


c 

« 


€ 




CONTENTS 


Chapter. 

I. — In which 

THERE IS A Tragedy, . 

• 

• 

• 

Page 

9 

II. — IN' WHICH Lucy looks into the Well, . 

• 

• 

• 

16 

III. — Outside 

THE Orchard Fence, 


• 

• 

24 


IV. — In which Father Aubril goes on a Painful Mission and 

ENCOUNTERS MOLLY DEEGAN, THE PEDLER, .... 28 

V. — In which Father Aubril has a Strange Encounter, . . 36 

VI. — In which Father Aubril’s Suspicions are Aroused, . . 42 

VII. — In which Lucy gives Jim a Promise and a Child is found 

IN A CRECHE, ......... 50 

VIII. — In which Sister Margaret has a Theory, ... 58 

IX. — In which Father Aubril’s Suspicions are Strengthened, 

AND in which he CONFERS WITH CARLO 64 

X. — In which Father Aubril asks Molly’s help, and Sarah 

Slater confronts Lucy, 70 

XL — In which Lucy recalls the Past, 81 

XII. — The Master and the Man, 85 

XIII. — In which Arthur Pilkington pays a visit to his Kins- 

woman, 92 

XIV. — In which Arthur Pilkington has an Unpleasant Ex- 

perience, 98 

XV. — In which Arthur Pilkington is made Prisoner, . . 105 

XVI. — At the Farm of Yves Keronac, . 


112 


6 CONTENTS. 

Chapter. Page 

XVII. — In which Pierrette is Punished, 116 

XVIII. — In which Yves Keronac Visits the Manor, . . . 123 

XIX. — In which Mrs. Pilkington goes on a Secret Expedition, 127 

XX. — In which Sarah Slater visits the Manor a Second Time, 132 

XXI. — In which the Story goes Backward 142 

XXII. — In which there is a Dinner Party at Pilkington 

Manor, and Arthur Pilkington pays a Visit there, . 150 

XXIII. — In which the Pilkington Heir fails to reach the 

Manor, 157 

XXIV. — In which Father Christian reads his Letter, . . 164 

XXV. — At the Great World Show 169 

XXVI. — In which Father Christian has a Guest, . . . 174 

XXVII. — In which Mrs. Pilkington and Mildred pay a Stolen 

Visit, 180 

XXVIII. — Further Progress 189 

XXIX. — In which Mr. Graystone meets Arthur Pilkington at 

“ The Merry Dogs,” and Jim Hollis Overhears a Con- 
versation, 194 

XXX. — In which Jim Hollis Disappears from the Story, and 

THERE IS A Sensation at the Great World Show, . . 205 

CONCLUSION. — In which all goes as Merry as a Marriage 

Bell, and the Heir comes to itis Own, .... 210 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Page 

Frontispiece, 2 

“ They rode along jesting, as men are wont to do who take their 

lives in their hands every day.” 11 

“ There was a step upon the gravel and the tread of a soldier as- 
cending the stairs.” . . . . • . . . . 13 

“ She heard some one approaching, some one who, like herself, 

had begun to frequent this place of late.” ... 17 

“ Her slender figure, in a soft white gown, outlined against the 

window.” . . 19 

“ Without a moment’s warning came the report, first of one pis- 
tol and then of another.” 25 

“ She was just harnessing up, with the aid of old Peter, when 

the priest approached.” 31 

“ ‘ Tell me that again! Harry Pilkington dead! When, where? ’ ” 39 

“ The priest prayed from the depths of his heart.” . . 43 

“ She was in the very act of draining a glass which she had 

taken from the tray.” . • 45 

‘‘ She carried it to where some of the Sisters were pacing up and 

down at recreation.” . 51 

“ Father Christian came to baptize the little waifs.” . . 61 

“ ‘ I wonder if you have anything against that girl, my poor 

Carlo,’ said the priest.” 65 

” Molly drew very close to the priest.” ..... 71 

“ Sarah, with incredible swiftness, was at her side.” . . 75 

” ‘ Who can tell what will be the future of this little one? The 

fairest flower may be soonest blasted by the storm.’ ” . 83 

“ ‘ Sir, Major Pilkington, your humble servant.’ ”... 87 

“‘You wish to resign your commission?’” .... 89 

“ At her feet lay Carlo, looking up into her face.” ... 93 

“ ‘ Do ‘you dare,’ he cried, ‘accuse me? ’ ” . . . . 101 

“ In a second he w^as down, with Carlo’s teeth in his throat.” . 103 

“ A man in a great coat was asking some trivial question of the 

driver.” 105 


7 


8 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page 

“‘That’s him! That’s the wolf in sheep’s clothing! ’ ” . . 107 

“ He stumbled, and the bowl fell in a hundred pieces on the 

floor.’’ 113 

“ Pierrette gave a great cry. ‘ 0, sir,’ he said, falling upon his 

knees. Til really take them this time.’ ”... 119 

“ Mildred stood with her adopted mother, awaiting an arrival 

which was of interest to both.” ..... 125 

“ Mrs. Pilkington permitted her trusted Lucy to hear every 

word of her interview with Farmer Keronac.” . . 129 

“ ‘ I was an orphan,’ he said, simply. ‘ I never knew my par- 
ents. Madame Keronac got me at the asylum.’ ” . . 131 

“ Without a word Mrs. Pilkington counted into her hand some 

shining coins, over which the crone fairly gloated.” . 139 

“ ‘ The swell’s in there — the fine gentleman! ’ he chuckled.” . 142 

“ Then she stepped to the door, at which she began to beat 

loudly.” 147 

“ Wills stood, prepared to sign, and Mrs. Pilkington lingered 

at the door.” 152 

“ He tossed a gold piece to the lackey.” 157 

“ ‘ Hoity-toity, my little man!’ said the showman. ‘ You are an 

unnatural son.’ ” 159 

“ ‘ She goes, Monsieur I’Abbe, as her wont is — not too fast, not 

too slow.’ ” . 165 

“ He was watching the elephant seize Mademoiselle Viola round 

the waist as she descended from a pillar.” . . . 171 

“ Only the courage of her high breeding had enabled her to pre- 
side over that brilliant assembly.” 183 

“ ‘ I pray you, do not terrify the child,’ said Mrs. Pilkington.” . 185 

“ ‘ It will not be for long, dear. The lawyer has given me great 

hopes.’ ” 191 

“ There is another who offers evidence to obtain pardon for her- 
self.” 199 

“ The prostrate figure of the boy lying upon the floor, with the 

mighty foot of the elephant on his chest.” . . . 207 

“ Mother and son together visited the galleries.” . . . 211 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER I. 


IN WHICH THEKE IS A TRAGEDY. 


That brief and eventful struggle between the United States 
and Great Britain, which marked the earlier }Tars of the century 
jnst closed, and coincided with the downfall of Napoleon and 
the triumph of the allied Powers on the continent of Europe, was 
in progress. 

The American navy had covered itself with glory, while many 
gallant and snccessful maneuvers on land had sustained the high 
character gained by the Colonial troops during the war of 17T(>. 

A gay and gallant squadron of cavalry rode along the Kings- 
bridge Road one mild evening in early September. It had but 
recently formed a part of General jMacomb’s division, which, in 
eoo])cration with Commodore ^lacdonongh, had defeated Sir 
George Prcvost and the British naval commander. Bring. They 
rode along jesting, as men are wont to do who take their lives 
in their hands every day. One was giving imaginary toasts to 
the great Napoleon, whose eagles still perched above the Tnileries, 
and who had not yet met his Waterloo. Another would have 

drained his glass, had a glass been anywhere convenient, to sancy 

9 


10 


THE PILKINGTOE HEIR. 


Jack Barry/^ or to that equally irrepressible Irishman, the reck- 
less Commodore Barney, who was even then performing hair- 
breadth exploits. 

“ Stick to your own branch of the service,^^ cried another ; 
the navy men are getting too much of the glory as it is. Give 
us the immortal George, or our ]\lacomb, who has just put a 
damper on the Britishers — or anybody you like in this arm of the 
service.’^ 

I'll give you Morgan with his merry volunteers, fighting the 
British regulars at the Creek Side near Black Bock. And Brown 
getting hold of Fort Erie, and — But stay ! What’s that ? ’’ The 
leader of the troop reined in his horse. ITis first fear was that 
they had fallen into an ambush. The shadowy outline of two or 
three men became visible, and that there were more was soon 
evident. But all remained silent, and some seemed to be in the 
act of stooping. One stood erect in an attitude of fear or horror. 
As the commander of the squadron looked more closely he dis- 
covered still another figure, lying face upward, partly supported 
by a dismantled gun-carriage. For the spot was the scene of a 
recent skirmish, in the course of which this ordnance wagon had 
been deserted. 

There was a pause, and all those reckless and dashing cavalry- 
men held their breath. The face of the man who lay thus upon 
the ground and seemed to be dead was very distinct in the light 
of the moon, which, occasionally overclouded, threw out fitful 
gleams. That was a noble countenance, soldierly and handsome 
in the repose which had fallen upon it, and the dress was a mili- 
tary one. The group of riders sitting still upon their horses 
were strangely moved, though it was part of their trade to look 
upon death every day and every hour. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


11 


Suddenly one of the two who seemed to be in attendance upon 
the dead or wounded man turned. The soldiers recognized him 
at once. It was Father Aubril, the French missionary, well 
known in the American ranks for many a kindly deed. He had 
served as chaplain until an illness, caused by exposure, had forced 
him to take up his- residence for the time being in the neighbor- 
hood of Kingsbridge, where he exercised his ministry in the sur- 
rounding country. For in those days priests were few and far 
between, and the need of their services was often keenly felt. 
He had always retained the dress which he was accustomed to 



“ They rode along jesting, as men are wont to do who take their lives in 

their hands every day.” 


wear in France, and the soldiers and civilians as well had grown 
to love his cassock and his three-cornered hat. The cavalry officer 
saluted. 

Is he dead. Father ? ’’ he asked. 

A"es, my son; yes, monsieur, he is dead.^^ 

Have yoQ discovered his identity?^’ 

Alas, yes ! It is the brave Captain Pilkington.’’ 

Pilkington ! Great heavens ! ’’ cried the soldier, aghast. 
Harry Pilkington ? 

The priest made an affirmative gesture. 


12 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Why, I danced at his wedding scarce two years ago in York 
town — and Ids bride — why, she was the fairest of the fair, the 
beautiful Mary Clinton.*^ 

Yes, it is of her I think,’^ said the priest, sadly. When 
these good souls came to tell me that a man lay wounded by the 
roadside, I ran hither in all haste, only to find my young friend.” 

He paused a moment, as if he feared his emotion might over- 
come him. 

Well, gentlemen,” he said at last. Captain Pilkington died 
as a soldier and a Christian. It has been a happy end, and so I 
tell you, I, who have knelt at many bedsides. But that fair young 
bride ... 1 saw them but lately, so happy among tlie flow- 

ers, with smiling faces, as children who look but on the morning 
side of life. Alas ! God’s holy will be done ! ” 

How did this occur? There has been no fightin 2 f hereal)outs 

o o 

for weeks, ^ said the officer, in perplexity, while the others turned 
in their saddles to hear. 

It is a mysterv. He knew not himself. He was ridin^ with 
dispatches a shot struck him, and killed his companion, an 
orderly.” 

i he faces of the men who listened grew dark with anger. 

Some cursed treachery,” said their leader. 

Tlie body must be brought home,” said the priest, but not 
till to-morrow, till I have told ]iei\ Meantime I am taking it to 
my liouse.” 

I would we could escort that gallant soldier,” said the officer, 
“ but we are under orders and must ride on to Yew York.” 

They saluted and withdrew, leaving the priest and the laborers 
in charge of the dead. 

Only the evening l)ofore Henry Pilkington sat with his wife 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


13 



in their terraced garden. Their supper was served there, in that 
loveliest of spots, with steps ascending from the graded walk 
below. They were full of ho])e and happiness, jesting and care- 
less, when there was a step upon the gravel and the tread of a 
soldier ascending the stairs. 

The husband and wife exchanged glances. Captain Pilkington 
had been through many of the chief battles of that campaign, 
serving at the head of his company or on the staff of the coni- 


" There was a step upon the gravel and the tread of a soldier ascending 

. the stairs.” 

mander-in-chief. Tie had been at home but a few days on sick 
leave, and to await orders. He had turned his ankle when spring- 
ing from a horse and was just able to walk again. The wife 
turned her head and regarded the orderly, who stood respectfully 
at the head of the steps, with a sense of coming trouble. Noting 
this her husband laughed. 

Duty is ever the marplot of a soldier’s life, sweetest Mary,” 
he said, bending over her chair an instant. But would you 




14 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


have it otherwise? And now my excuses for ten minutes, till 1 
glance over this precious document/’ 

He bade the servant who waited at the table to take the 
orderly round to the housekeeper’s room for refreshments, and 
then he went into the library, whence he emerged a few moments 
later with a countenance of the deepest gravity. He drew ^lary 
aside into a shaded path, where often before the breaking out 
of this deplorable war they had been wont to walk, in careless 
exuberance of spirit, laughing at fortune and plucking her favors. 

“ I must ride forth at once,” said the husband ; “ here are 
immediate orders.” 

Where are you to go ? ” 

I may not tell you. My orders are secret.” 

Mary, who with all her lightness of heart was a woman of 
sense, did not question farther. She knew that the times were 
critical and that her husband was a soldier. She parted bravely 
from him, watching him ride away, a gallant figure, and kissing 
her finger-tips to him as she caught a last glimpse of him in the 
avenue below. He turned and waved his hat to her, bowing low, 
and then he was out of sight. She hummed a verse of a song 
they used to sing together, and went away up to the nursery to 
console herself with baby. Baby was a charming boy who had 
inhabited this world for barely six months, and not vet having 
learned its ways, believed that he could be absolute master of 
the universe if only he used his lungs sufficiently, with some ad- 
ditional force of hands and feet. 

]\[rs. j\lary sat down with him on her knee at a latticed win- 
dow, and pointed out to the nurse each of his separate attractions. 
The hair, already a rich shade, between amber and chestnut, so 
uncommon in babies, beginning to curl as his papa’s did when 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


15 


he was an infant; the bine, blue eyes, so very like the paternal 
eyes. 

Mrs. Pilkington sighed. He shall not be a soldier, my little 
Wilfrid,^^ said she to the nurse. I will not have him leaving me 
to go off with the troopers. He shall stay and take care of me, 
won't you, my sweetest ? 

The baby, as if in answer, crowed up into her face with eyes of 
mischief, while the nurse demurely remarked: 

But, madam, if he does not go a-soldiering, he will go, per- 
haps, a-courting, and leave you either way.’’ 

iV cloud passed over the mother’s fair young face. She clasped 
the baby to her heart, crying : 

He shall not leave me, my baby, my baby ! I am glad he is 
not big and strong, but only weak and helpless and can not go 
a-soldiering nor yet a-courting.” 

Then she fell into a happy reverie, wondering when her soldier 
should have finished with this tiresome business of war and come 
a-riding up the avenue again. If only peace would come ! What 
cared she for grievances against Great Britain, though her liege 
lord had explained them to her at such length? She could only 
look forward to the time when Harry and she should sup together 
on the lawn, and she would let him talk as he liked about the 
rights of American citizens and the tyranny of impressing men 
for the British navy, and all the other complaints that were set 
forth by Congress or by Mr. Madison. 

As she sat thus and crooned to her baby, she little guessed 
that before many liours should have passed Father Aubril would 
be advancing toward her with news that would darken her life 
forever, or that the threads of a double tragedy were already- 
being woven about her. 


16 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTEK II. 

IN WHICH LUCY LOOKS INTO THE WELL. 

Lucy^ the nurse, somewhat wearied of the lady’s raptures over 
her little son, and always full of envy at the prosperous lot of 
this favored child of fortune, escaped from the nursery as soon 
as possible and strolled out into the air, looking very pretty i 
her smart cap and apron. She was reflecting as she went tluit 
fortune’s goods were very unequally divided; that it was hard 
that Mrs. Pilkington should have youth, beauty, wealth, a splendid 
house, with the richest of appointments, a handsome and devoted 
husband, and no trouble of any sort, while she, Lucy Lawless, had 
had to work hard almost from her childhood up, and to humor a 
fine lady’s whims, and mind a squalling brat, and slave and toil 
for the bread she ate and the clothes she wore. If matters we e 
inquired into her slavery was not a very galling one. Mi l 
P ilkington had no whims at all, being a remarkably sensible and 
sweet-tempered young woman, and the baby, who was healthy 
and happy, squalled as little as any baby could reasonably be 
expected to do. 

In this frame of mind, which was very common to her, Lucy 
strolled on to a favorite haunt, the well, which stood at a certain 
point outside the garden wall, under the spreading liranchcs of 
an ancient tree. It was a charming spot, and one of its great 
attractions for Lucy was that she could see the reflection of her 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


i7 

own pretty, foolish face in the clear water. Besides, as she looked 
down into the clear depths, she knew very well that she should 
sv ai hear some one aj)proaching, some one who, like herself, had 
begun to frequent this place of late. She did not turn her head. 
Her attitude, she thought, was graceful, but the water rellected 
a smile, which broke over her face as she heard the expected step 
and the familiar voice, saying: 

Miss Lucy ! ” 

She turned ever so slightly. 

Miss Lucy ! ’’ 



'^She heard some one appruachinij, some one loho, like herself, had beyim to 

frequent this place of late.’’ 


She turned a little more. 

Aren^t you goin’ to speak to me this evenin,’ when you’re 
a-lookin’ prettier than ever, as I’m a sinner.” 

The smile deepened, hut she tossed her head. 

Go along with you for a flatterin’ rogue,” she cried. 

You’ve not been a-soldierin’ all this time without learnin’ how 
to palaver us poor women.” 

Flattering ! Palavering ! ” repeated Jim Hollis. My, Miss 
Lucy, I can’t say a quarter of what 1 thinks as to your good looks 
and the like.” 


18 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


]\riss Lucy, thinking she might as well let him have a full 
view of the countenance he praised, turned fully toward him, 
and the conversation became brisk. The man was a knave, but 
gifted with a ready tongue and a rare power of lying. Moreover, 
he liad really a fondness for this girl, while he hoped to make 
her useful in a certain little affair which had been entrusted to 
him. If that succeeded he would marry her and settle down for 
good and all. 

So when Lucy began to air her grievances and to exclaim 
against rich folks who had everything their own way, and to de- 
clare that she hated poverty, Jim Hollis said to her, slowly and 
deliberately, that she might weigh every word: 

You needn’t be poor, Lucy, my dear, a day longer than you 
wants to.” 

Lucy looked at him in astonishment. 

And you "'can marry me, too, if that pleases you. Least- 
ways you’ve only yourself to blame if you don’t, Lucy my dear.” 

But you h’aint got no money ! ” she cried, point blank in 
her amazement. 

“ I will have some, and you, too, if you’ll do as I says.” 

Lucy’s eyes sparkled. She had always had the bright, glit- 
tering dream of wealth before her eyes. She saw herself riding 
in a carriage, dressed in a silken gown such as my lady wore to 
iUadam Madison’s reception, with ruffles of lace, and jewels. From 
this dream she was rudely, if unconsciously, awakened by Jim 
Hollis. 

We could take the inn at Tarrytown or set up shop at Myers’ 
Corner.” 

An inn ? A shop ? ” 

The wealth Jim spoke of was not that of which she had been 



t< slender 'fiQure, in cl soft white Qown, outlined OQCiinst the window. 



20 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


dreaiiiiiig. But still it would be comparative riches and perhaps 
a stepping-stone to higher things. She was fond of Jim, too. 
The swagger he had acquired in the army, his smooth tongue, 
and his speech, somewhat above that of the country louts in the 
vicinity, had won her heart. So she asked, after a monicnt^s 
pause : 

But what am 1 to do to get this money ? 

Jim was wily, and made up his mind that he would not tell 
her any more just then. Curiosity, he knew, was very potent 
with a woman. 

You just think over what I have been a-sayin’,'^ he replied, 
^Cmd meet me here to-morrow evenin^ at the same hour. Then 
ril tell you.’^ 

Lucy sulked and ])outed, but it was no use, and knowing that 
she would be needed in the nursery she bade Jim good night, 
saying that she didn’t know at all whether or no she would be 
at the well next evening. 

I may be here, or I mayn’t,’^ she called back, defiantly. 

Oh, yes you will, Lucy, my dear,^’ said Jim to himself. Oh, 
yes you will.” 

As the girl went upstairs to the nursery she had to pass ^Irs. 
Pilkington’s boudoir, a charming little room overlooking the gar- 
den. Lucy saw her mistress sitting there, her slender figure, in 
a soft white gown, outlined against the window, her arm resting 
on the table with its alabaster vase of fragrant flowers and her 
head bent as if in dejection. 

Mrs. Pilkington looked up as Lucy passed. 

You were long,” she observed. 

T just strolled out to take the air for a minute, ma’am,” 
said the girl, with a touch of impertinence in her tone. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


21 


“ It was a long minute. But there, there, it doesn’t matter,” 
Mrs. Bilkington said, languidly. “ 1 put Master Wilfrid in his 
crib and rang for Mary Anne to sit with him. You can relieve 
her now.’’ 

She soon tires of the nursery herself, does my fine madam,” 
muttered Lucy, for all her nonsense about the baby.” 

And she repeated this remark to Mary Anne, a fine and faith- 
ful Irish girl of the best type, who had come straight from Lim- 
erick to the Pilkington household two years before. 

Sure the mistress was tired,” said Ylary Anne, and she’s 
worrying about the master some way or another, and she never 
left the little one till he fell sound asleep in her arms.” 

Lucy tossed her head. Mary Anne and she hadn’t an idea 
in common. She hated these Irish, anyway. 

He’s a dear, good bal)y, too,” said the warm-hearted Irish 
girl, not the least trouble and as sweet-tempered as the mistress 
herself.” 

Sweet-tempered when he’s asleep,” said Lucy, emphasizing 
the rudeness of her remark by a loud yawn, and as for her, I’d 
like to know why she wouldn’t be SAveet-tempered, with folks 
waitin’ on her and every wish gratified.” 

Mary Anne said nothing. Lucy continued. Y^ou can go 
now, if you have a mind. I’ll stay here like the slave I am.” 

For she Avanted to be rid of ^‘^this stupid thing,” as slie 
mentally called her felloAv-servant, and think oA^r AAdiat Jim had 
said and try to guess 'Avhat he meant by saying she could be rich 
if she Avished. 

^feanAvliile Ylrs. Pilkington’s uneasiness and depression in- 
creased every moment. She arose and paced the room. She 
plucked half a dozen of the floAATrs from the vase to pieces Avith 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


90 


nervous, aimless fingers. She listened at the window and looked 
out into the growing darkness, straining eyes and ears, ddiere 
was no sound but the distant rumble of some belated wagon and 
the wind stirring in the elms outside. Above in the sky stars 
were peeping out shyly from the blue, and the tall poplars seemed 
stretching upward, upward, as if they would reach those worlds 
of light or that great, calm vault of azure. 

My husband ! My husband ! cried Mary Pilkington, re- 
peating the words again and again. Oh, Harry, my Harry, 
God watch over you. Blessed ^lother of God, helper of those in 
affliction, pray for me. Thy human heart knows the grief, the 
indescribable anguish of ours. And thou knowest these foolish 
fears and vain imaginings. Mary, Mary, ask thy Son to help 
me, to protect him.” 

Then she made an effort to throw off her fears as idle fancies 
that came with the darkness and would disappear with the mor- 
row's sunshine. She tried to think of her pretty boy asleep u])- 
stairs in his crib, safe from all harm. But again she caught 
herself praying with strange intensity, as though the words were 
wrung from her by a ])ower stronger than herself. 

ff'ender Jesus, spare me this trial. Sjiare me that precious 
life. I was too hap])y. I know, I feel it. Thou dost not give 
us un1)roken hap])iness here below. But a few more years, onh' a 
few more years.” 

She sank upon her knees in an agony of supplication, hiding 
her face in her hands and i-ocking to and fro in the strange fervor 
of that prayer. And, if truth must be told, Mary Pilkington, 
since leaving the convent, had not prayed as much nor thought 
as much of the spiritual world beyond this as she might have 
done. The world was very fair, the land of youth was all smil- 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


23 


iiig, sorrow had not even touched her witli the lightest of fingers. 
tJod would wait, lie was so patient, for the turning to Him some 
time, somehow. She was not actually neglectful of any duty, 
and was even rigidly conscientious in many things, but this 
cry of the heart was the product of suffering, of that anticipated 
suffering which fine and delicate natures sometimes experience 
before the actual calamity. 



24 


THE riLKlNGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER III. 

OUTSIDE THE ORCHAKD FENCE. 

At that very liour, while Mrs. Pilkington prayed and wept, 
and struggled, as it were, against the blow that was impending, 
while Pilkington Manor lay sleeping, with all its vast estate 
silent, on a dark road not two miles away two horsemen were 
riding swiftly. They rode silently, too, with a stern determina- 
tion about them as of men who go on a life and death enterprise. 
The trees waved over their heads, the katydid gave out its monot- 
onous drone of affirmation and negation, the selfsame stars on 
which Mrs. Pilkington had looked, glowed and burned in the 
sky above. What their thoughts were no one could tell. Was it 
entirely of the enterprise on which they rode, or were deeper and 
stronger human feelings stirring in their hearts? Was Henry 
Pilkington, who rode first, followed by the orderly, recalling 
the wife and child he had so lately left, and carelessly speculating, 
as men do, as to when he should return home and what he would 
have to talk about, or what Mary would have to tell him? 

They had reached a point in the road which Avas particularly 
dark. A fence shut in an orchard, where the branches met, mak- 
ing an impenetrable gloom. Henry Pilkington knew it Avell. 
He had often climbed these trees, as a lad, to reach the red- 
cheeked apples. Not that he cared about the fruit, for they had 
much finer growing on the estate. But it was a change and a 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR 


25 


novelty, and once when the farmer had come out with a shotgun 
to pop at him, he had promptly discovered that it was Master 
11 arry from the liall, and had saluted him and jested with him, 
and ottered him a hatful of apples to take home, which Master 
Harry declined. 

I just wanted to steal one or two for the fun of it,” Harry 
said. Not really steal them, because Ihl pay you after.” 

Pay me ! As if Pd take pay from a Pilkington ! You can 
have as many as you like and welcome.” 



WitJiout a moment’s icarnhuj came the report, first of one pistol and then of 

another.” 


This little episode is an apt illustration of a certain side of 
human nature. Had the farmer caught a poor lad at his apples, 
who scarce tasted one in a twelvemonth, he would have peppered 
him, or taken a switch to him. But the young gentleman from 
the ]\lanor, surfeited with ap])les and other fruit, must needs 
have as many as he wants. And Mr. Pilkington, the father, said 
as much to the farmer. 


26 


TEE PILKIEGTON HEIR. 


“Don’t show him any mercy, Farmer Gritfith, if you catch 
him. What excuse has he for being in your apple-trees, with 
scores of them at home? Treat him worse than you would any 
ragamuffin by the roadside, who, poor devil, wants the fruit.’^ 

“ La, sir, as if I’d lay a hand on Squire PilkingtoiTs son,^’ 
urged the farmer. 

“ As if that wouldn’t be half the fun of it, farmer,” said the 
father, “ trying to elude you and escape the punishment.” 

But such reasoning never had any effect, and Harry lost his 
taste for the apples. Mr. Pilkington, the father, had been dead 
a half-score years, and neither he nor the farmer, nor the young 
culprit himself, could have guessed that a shot should be fired 
one day from among those trees, not from the gun of honest 
Griffith, but from a more deadly weapon. Xot in the glow and 
glory of an autumnal morning, but in the silence and darkness of 
night. Without a moment’s warning came the report, first of 
one ])istol and then of another, and a moment later two horses 
were galloping riderless along the Kingsbridge Load. 

Two prostrate figures were discovered near dawn by "some 
men going to work in the fields. Among them was no other than 
Farmer Griffith, grown old now, but still adhering to the habits 
of his youth. Paising the bodies, one was found to have life 
in it, and Griffith, peering at it in the rliin light, cried ; “ God 
a mercy, it’s the young Squire!” and then with tears falling 
fast down his rugged cheeks he added : 

“ I mind when he used to come stealin’ my apples out of this 
very orchard.” 

With the assistance of the others they raised him and carried 

him away from the scene of those boyish freaks into a neiffiihorincr 

* ^ 

field, laying him down with his head supported by the gun car- 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


27 


riage, while one of Farmer Griffith’s laborers hastened to bring 
Father Aubril to the spot. 

1 mind how he used to steal my apples,” wailed the farmer, 
and oh, he was the fine lad, then.” 

Was it fancy, or did a smile of recognition pass over the face 
as tlie dying eyes opened an instant to rest upon the farmer’s 
rugged features? And did, perchance, this favorite of fortune 
imagine himself again a boy, detected by the farmer in the 
branches of his trees? 


I 


28 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CIIAPTEK IV. 

IN WHICH FATHER AUBRIL GOES ON A PAINFUL MISSION AND EN- 
COUNTEJiS MOLI-Y DEEGAN, THE PEDLER. 

Father Aubril did not lose much time in setting out for 
tlie Filkington homestead. It was one of tlie most painful mis- 
sions of his life. He walked slowly at first, leaning painfully 
on Ids stick. He was vaguely aware of a salute from Molly 
Deegan, who had once been a canteen-woman to one of the Eng- 
lish regiments, and who still wore a species of semi-military cos- 
tume, having a curious pride in her former profession. She had 
turned pedler now, and was just harnessing up her cart with 
the aid of old Peter, the ex-hostler of the j\Ierry Dogs’ Inn, when 
the priest approached. 

He returned her salute absently. He was musing on the in- 
stability of human happiness, a theme which has been brought 
home sooner or later to every child of Adam. He could not help 
recalling husband and wife as he had last seen them together, 
full of joyous youth, living in the present altogether, the hus- 
band’s jest and merriment bringing responsive laughter into 
the face of the wife. 

“Do you know, Father,” Captain Pilkington had said, “I 
think I shall have to get you to marry us over again. This little 
woman here dropped her wedding-ring and it rolled under a 
chair, so that she was without it for a whole hour. She is quite 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


29 


sure the marriage ceremony was invalidated and that misfortune 
will ensue/’ 

‘^Mlow can you talk such nonsense?” the wife' had laughed, 
father Aubril, you will really have to give him a lecture. He is 
not half dignified enough to be Wilfrid’s papa. Wilfrid, who will 
be growing big and strong one of these days.” 

To he a crutch for my old age,” cried Harry. 

And the priest remembered how it had occurred to him that 
it was impossible to associate the idea of old age with that face 
and figure. Perhaps the wife thought the same, so fond and 
proud was the glance she had bestowed upon her husband. The 
old priest shuddered as he thought of the look that would come 
into the face of the young wife when she heard the ghastly news 
he had to tell. 

Father Aubril had a very tender human heart, and he never 
grew accustomed to the sorrows of others. He was familiar with 
them, as one of his calling must be who was nearing his three 
score and ten. He looked heyond and saw clearly with the eyes 
of faith, as the priest and the Catholic must do, the ultimate 
reason of all human misery. But he still pitied the sufferer who 
was undergoing the process of purification and being fitted for 
that higher life. 

He was, therefore, but vaguely conscious of the people he 
met or the things he saw upon his way. Ox-carts heavily laden, 
laborers with farming implements upon their shoulders, children, 
barefooted and bareheaded, carrying baskets of apples or pails 
of red plums plucked from the laden trees. Some cows, with 
shining backs of brown, coming lazily along, began to trot as 
they saw him, and to m.ake way for him, clumsily, in a very panic 
of terror. A rustic pair, whom he had but lately wedded, came 


30 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


toward him arm in arm, the swain grinning sheepishly, and the 
young woman dropping him a bashful curtesy. 

All life was going on his way ; people were marrying and being 
given in marriage, children were playing, farm workers were 
making hay, men everywhere were waking up to the several oc- 
cupations that engross them during the petty day of existence, 
while at the cottage which he had just left a pulseless form was 
lying, done with this human life forever. And up there in that 
house was a woman to whom he was about to deal a death blow. 
His heart sank as he thought of the tears that would dim those 
Ijrown eyes, which but yesterday held the laughter of a child 
in their depths. He turned nervously from side to side, as if 
he were seeking some loophole of escape from this direful duty, 
this mission of charity. But there was none, as he knew well, 
and he set himself to ])raying earnestly. 

God is very merciful,^^ he kept repeating. He sends the 
trial, but He gives grace to meet it, the grace of the hour. iVlas, 
my poor ^ladam Pilkington, so lately the envy of every one! ’’ 

J list then he heard the rattle of a cart and the canteen woman 
drew up beside the road. 

Father Aubril,’’ she called out, in her rough, hearty voice, 
is A^our Eeverence going my way? Can I give you a lift? 

The priest took off his hat with the courtesy of his race. 

No, my goof] ^lolly,^^ he said, a thousand thanks, but mv 
journey ends witli this garden wall.'’ 

“A"ou are going, then, to Pilkington Manor?” she inquired. 

I am,” said the yiriest. 

^‘^And a. real lady is IMadani Pilkington. No nonsense. No 
desynsing of the poor, nor giving herself airs, though ive all 
know what a grand old stock she’s of. And the master, too ! He 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


31 


ought to be a prince, he’s that handsome and kind and generous, 
with the laugh of a boy out of him, and the spirit of a gentleman 
in every inch of him. God bless him and her every day they rise.” 
^lolly,” said the priest, 1 see you don’t know, and you 
will be sorry from your heart to hear on what errand I am going.” 
Good lands. Father, don’t tell me that there’s anything amiss 
with Captain Pilkington ! ” cried the woman, in a tone of such 
genuine grief and alarm tliat the priest found it difficult to master 
his own emotion as he replied: 



“ iihe teas jmt harnessing up, with the aid of old Peter, when the priest 

approached.” 


He was shot through the right lung last night in the dark- 
ness hy some unknown person. J\[ay the Lord be merciful to 
his soul.” 

The woman at this news droi)ped the reins and fairly sobbed 
aloud. 

And she up there ! ” she wailed. '' Oh, the pity of it ! Oh, 
the Lord help her, up there ! ” 

She could say no more for some minutes, then she asked : 

Does she know ? ” 



82 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


'' 1 iro, alas ! to tell her. I go with a most heavy heart/' said 
the priest, sorrowfully. 

'' And look a-here, Father/’ said the woman, not that you 
need go and mention anything like that to her now, for there’s 
only one thing this day she'll listen to, poor lamb, and that s his 
name. But keep this in mind and let her know it some day. If 
she ever has need of me. I’ll be ready. 1 ni rough and ignorant, 
I’m poor and she’s rich. But the worlds full of sharks, bather, 
and she’s young, God help her, and — ” 

Here the })oor woman’s emotion got the better of her. She 
whipped \ip her horse abruptly and drove off, only shouting hack 
the one word : 

“ Kemember.” 

The priest, much touched, sped on, arriving presently at the 
dwelling. Entering, he sent up his name to Mrs. Filkington. 
She came down at once, charming as ever, in a suimner gown 
of blue, with a broad cottage bonnet shading her face. 

‘^Me shall sit in the garden. Father — unless you prefer to 
go indoors. It is so seldom I see you.” 

My duties take up much of my time,” said Father Aubril,* 
glancing at her as she took a seat on one of the rustic benches 
under an oak. He fancied that he already saw the first shadow 
he had ever perceived upon that fair face. And yet her troubles 
had fallen from her as a mantle, and in the morning light she 
was ready to laugh at her fears of the night before. If aught 
had happened, why she would have heard it, and though Father 
Aubril’s visit was unusually early she did not by any means 
connect it with her forebodings of the previous evening. 

^frs. Filkington,” said the priest, this is a scene for hap- 
piness, is it not ? ” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


33 


Yes” she assented, lightly, it is charming. There is noth- 
ing wanting to it. Father, except, of course, the presence of those 
who give it value. For after all, don’t you think that human 
sympathy and companionship are needed to complete the fairest 
scenes ? ” 

She spoke rapidly, uneasily, us though she were striving to 
ward off a blow. The grave and sorrowful aspect of the priest 
had already struck her. 

I think that divine sympathy is needed most of all, and 
that always, everywhere,” said Father Aubril, slowly. 

Oh, most true,” Mrs. Filkington agreed, still more ner- 
vously, that, of course, is the higher view. But for me. Father, 
I need, oh, I must have, human sympathy.” 

Her tone was piteous. It went to the old priest’s heart. 

^ly daughter,” he began, very gently, we shall all be called 
upon, sooner or later, to break the dearest of human ties.” 

Oh, yes, dear Father, at our death — when, perhaps, we shall 
be very old.” 

Her face had grown ghastly and the expression of the eyes, 
full of a wild appeal, an eager supplication, caused Father Aubril 
to turn his away. 

Sometimes,” he said, the moment comes when we are 
young, when the journey has been only started.” 

Father ! ” 

Then,” said the priest, it is martyrdom — the immolation of 
what is dearer than self.” 

She covered her face with her hands. 

My daughter, my poor, poor child. God is asking that sub- 
lime sacrifice of you. He has given you happiness. He wants 
you to give it back to Him and to rise to the heights.’^ 




THE PILKINGTOlsr HEIR. 


^^Tell me/^ the wife said in a hushed whisper. will try 
to bear it. I knew, yes, I knew last night. He is dead.^’ 

The tone in which she pronounced these words Father Aubril 
felt he should never forget. 

5^ Yes, my child, dead as a soldier and a Christian, with ab- 
solution and Extreme Unction, and with w^ords of resignation on 
his lips.” 

The priest stopped an instant. It was too painful. His poor 
old heart felt as if it must break. But that sacred duty, which in 
the exercise of his ministry he had so often performed, must 
be performed to the end now. He sent you his dear love, the 
love which had been always your own, and he bade you look for- 
ward to meeting him again, somewhere that is far more beautiful 
that this.” 

Somewhere ? — but never here ! Never the sweet life we have 
known together ! ” 

The words broke like an agonized cry from her heart, then 
she sat still, her hands folded one above the other in the mute 
helplessness of a supreme grief. The priest did not break in 
upon her silence. He sat and waited patiently, suffering himself 
in her agony, which seemed to be mocked by the beauty and 
brightness of everything about them. At last he thought it 
better to break the strained silence, the tearless, awful agony, that 
was so oppressive. 

My child,” he said. 

She looked at him, another bitter cry breaking from her lips. 

Oh, Harry, Harr}^, if I could have seen you again but for 
one moment. Oh, my love, my love ! ” 

Try to repeat after me, God’s holy will be done,” said the 
priest, even if it be mechanical, say the words. Make the sac- 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


35 


rifice, it will be a great step nearer him, and yon can offer it for 
his soul’s welfare.” 

N^earer him? For his soul? Yes, I will make the sacrifice,” 
she cried. Let me kneel. Father, to give him back to God.” 

She knelt with bowed head. Father Aubril bending his in 
unison. The song of the birds above seemed almost cruel, the 
beauty of the summer landscape untouched yet by autumn. Mary 
Filkington arose with a strange energy that almost startled the 
priest. He had known how to give it the right impetus and he 
knew well that with such a grief as this, to bring it into touch 
with the Divinity was all that remained. 

Everytliing in my life will now be done to bring me nearer 
to him,” she said, firmly. 

Your life will be for your child,” said the priest, his child.” 
The hard, stony expression, which had transformed her face, 
changed and softened. 

“You are right. Father, for our child. I am going now to 
my bal)y.” 

She held out lier hand and the priest took and pressed it 
with a sympathy which he could not speak. 

“ Courage — patience,” he said. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ Father, courage — pattonce.” 

And she turned and sped away over the lawn, a pathetic 
figure in that bright blue gown, which she was never to wear 
more. The old priest breathed freely. One of the most trying 
moments of his life had just come to an end. 


36 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER V. 

IN WHICH FATILER AUBKIL HAS A STRANGE ENCOUNTER. 

'V 

The priest sat still for some moments after Mrs. Pilkington 
had left him, his hands clasped on his stick, while he looked out 
over the landscape. Green meadows stretching below, far as 
eye could reach, trees touched by the hand of autumn to the 
intensifying of their beauty, as sorrow touches a life and crowns 
it ; skies, with that peculiar brightness and softness in them which 
distinguishes September, a breeze which had in it the breath of 
the hives and of innumerable orchards. All was peace, all was 
brightness, everywhere the evidence of prosperity, of wealth, of 
luxury. 

Yet the priest could only think of that tragedy which had 
so lately confronted him, and of the blasting of those two lives. 
Not the meanest cottager on the estate, blessed with the presence 
of those she loved, could have envied Madam Pilkington then. 
The ache in her heart, the blankness that shut out all life from 
her, the clutching at faint shreds of consolation. Father Aubril 
could comprehend it all, even to the first natural turning away 
from what was spiritual. 

He arose at last, the old priest weighed down with the bur- 
dens of others’ sins and sorrows and cares. He went toward the 
house, desiring to have information of Mrs. Pilkington before 
he returned to his cottage. He passed inside, recalling at every 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


37 


step some word or look or gesture of its late master, and meeting 
only silence. He had not told her yet, and l>y a strange omission 
she had never asked where the body lay. No doubt she had sup- 
posed it to be at a distance. He wanted to suggest that it had 
better be brought home without delay, and if he could not see 
^Irs. Pilkington herself, he would have a talk with ^Mrs. Brown, 
the housekeeper, and Wills, the butler. They had been long in 
service and would know with whom it was best to communicate. 

There was a strange stillness in the broad entrance-hall. A 
latticed window stood open up above, letting in a flood of sun- 
shine, and the soft air that gently moved the palms and other 
plants which stood about in great pots, while the carved and 
polished stairs seemed to reflect the sunlight. There was a pic- 
ture or two, of exceeding value the priest had heard, and a tall 
vase of costly china occupied a niche and was filled with scarlet 
gladioli. 

All at once, as Father Aubril had reached the foot of this 
stairway, he heard a foot descending it, above the turn. He 
paused and waited. It was a heavy tread and startling. The 
priest knew the butler would not use this staircase, and there was 
no other man about the place. Presently he saw a tall dark form, 
appearing as a blur on that fair scene. The stranger had a sin- 
ister look, despite his elaborate toilet, and he stood still and sur- 
veyed the quaint figure in the cassock an instant. Then he de- 
scended hurriedly, with a careless bow, seeming as if he were 
about to pass out the door. Father Aubril went on up the stairs, 
determined if he met no one on the landing above to ring for the 
footman. He reached the passage, and, changing his mind, 
thought he would proceed at once to the housekeeper’s room and 
get her advice. 


as ♦ THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 

lie was just about to knock at her door when hurrying foot- 
steps reached him, and he was confronted by the same tall stranger 
he had encountered below. 

“ On second thought, Reverend Sir,^’ said this man, I would 
like to put you a question.’’ 

I am at your service, sir,” said the priest, bowing coldly. 
He liked neither the man nor the tone he chose to assume. 

Can you tell me anything concerning the indisposition of 
Mrs. Pilkington,” he asked, bluntly. She was found lying in a 
faint near the front entrance. The butler reports that he last saw 
her in conversation with Your Reverence.” 

The priest regarded the man with a scrutiny so keen and 
piercing that it served momentarily to disconcert him. 

I would ask,” he said, in a more courteous tone, what news 
you have brought which has so upset her ? ” 

I brought, sir,” said the priest, gravely, the news of her 
husband’s death.” 

To Father Aubril’s astonishment the stranger seized his arm 
with so rude and violent a grasp that, involuntarily, he drew 
back a pace or two. 

Tell me that again ! ” shouted the stranger. Harry Pilk- 
ington dead! When, where? Is it a certainty? Ho, it can’t be 
true ! ” 

Again the priest looked sternly into the face of this strange 
visitor to that household of mourning, the while he shook him- 
self loose from his grasp, and again the man’s eyes fell abashed 
before that piercing gaze, which had read many a dark history. 

I am in the habit, sir, of speaking only the truth, in so far 
as I know it,” said Father Aubril, very coldly. 

But that is just it,” said the other, with sudden good humor. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR, 


39 


speaking almost jovially, you might be mistaken. I might be 
mistaken. What you believe to be fact may be but idle rumor.’’ 
It is no rumor nor am I mistaken/’ said Father Aubril. 

But I take the freedom of asking why the death of Captain 
Pilkington should be a subject to you of so great interest, I was 
about to say of joy.” 

J oy ? Why, you are wrong ! Pilkington was my cousin, the 
same name and all. People used to call me ^ the other Pilkington.’ 



^ Tell me that again! Harry Pilkington dead! When, where?*” 


Not a very distinguished appellation, was it? But there’s only 
one Pilkington now.” 

A dark look had come into his face as he spoke, but it had 
cleared with the last words. 

Your Eeverence has a strong imagination, I should say. 
Joy ! Who would be joyful for the death of this most popular 
gentleman whom every one loved ? ” 

The irony under these words struck Father Aubril painfully. 





40 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Your language, sir/’ he said, is very strange, very un- 
usual.” 

Not at all, Eeverend Sir, not at all,” replied the other, still 
with that suspicion of mockery under the gravity of his tone. 

You will hear it from the whole country. They all unite in a 
chorus of praise. It will reach the very skies, now that death has 
snatched him from us.” 

Father Aubril was silent. 

^^And as for her, for the beautiful Mary, your news has all 
but killed her, too.” 

A strange look came into his face. Something of hate, some- 
thing of triumph, a close observer might have said, as he muttered, 
bitterly : 

Yes, he is dead, Mary Pilkington, and no power will ever 
bring him back to life ; while I am alive and — in excellent health, 
though profoundly afflicted,” he concluded, catching the priest’s 
eye. His tone changed, however, as he read something of hon- 
est indignation in Father Aubril’s countenance. 

And what do you mean to insinuate,” he cried, in a bullying 
voice. Do you think T will be browbeaten because you see fit 
to wear a gown ? ” 

Sir,” said Father Aubril, I have made no insinuations, 
nor do I seek to browbeat any one. But I will tell you that I 
was the friend of Captain Pilkington, who is dead, and of his 
wife, who is living, and it is my right to know something of 
those who enter this house.” 

Well, know then,” said the stranger, returning to his sneer- 
ing voice and manner, and making the priest a bow, that I am 
Arthur Morehead Pilkington, at your service, cousin of the de- 
ceased, and that I but called this morning to offer my compli- 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


41 


ments to the mistress of the house, quite unaware of any unusual 
occurrence.” 

Having said tliis he walked away, leaving Father Aubril 
standing still, full of a vague uneasiness, while Mrs. Brown, hav- 
ing heard voices, suddenly opened her door and came forth. She 
hastened to tell the priest of her mistress’ sudden indisposition, 
while he threw her into a panic by his news of the master’s death. 


42 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTEK YI. 

IN WHICH FATHER AUBRIL^S SUSPICIONS ARE AROUSED. 

As Father Aubril passed through the corridor his name was 
suddenly called in a tone of agitation. He turned hastily. It 
was Mary Anne, who was calling after him, her eyes red with 
weeping. 

0 A^our Eeverence, Father Auhril, come quickly. I’m 
afeard the mistress is dying.^’ 

Father Aubril turned and followed the girl without a word. 
When he arrived at the door of Mrs. PilkingtoiFs bedroom he 
stood a moment to gaze at the face, marble face, resting upon the 
pillows. The eyes were closed and the features had almost the 
rigidity of death. Father Aubril approached the bed. 

“ My daughter ! he said, repeating the words two or three 
times, as though he would summon the spirit back from the 
threshold of the other world. But the closed eyes did not reopen, 
the lines did not relax. 

It were an easy end to her troubles, poor heart,’’ said the 
priest, raising his hand to give conditional absolution. “ She may 
never recover consciousness.” 

Then he turned to Mary Anne, who stood weeping quietly 
beside him. 

“ Can you send a messenger for me, my good girl ? ” 

Yes, Father,” answered she. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


43 


“ 1 will write a line, which can be given to my man at the 
cottage. 1 want my case containing the holy oils, lest they should 
be required.'^ 

0 Father, for the love of God don’t say that the mistress is 
going to die, too.” 

1 say nothing, my child. She has had a fearful shock, and 
she is not too robust. So that she may recover her senses and 
rally, or she may fade away, as it were, in her sleep. It is well 
to be prepared for the worst. I will stay here as long as possible, 
to be at hand in case of need.” 



He wrote a few hasty lines in pencil on a leaf torn from his 
memorandum book, and while the faithful Marv Anne hur- 
ried off to dispatch the messenger, the priest sank upon a prie- 
dieu and prayed from the depths of his heart. 

He asked God if it were His holy will to preserve this life 
for the sake of the child, or if in mercy He deigned to shorten the 
pilgrimage, to grant to this soul all the death-bed graces. How 
long he prayed he knew not, 'for the saintly old man became 
absorbed in contemplation. At last he was aroused by a faint 



44 


THE PILKINOTON HEIR. 


movement. He turned and saw that Mrs. Pilkington had opened 
her heavy eyes. They rested with scarce a gleam of consciousness 
on the face of the priest as he drew near. The pale lips parted 
and he heard the words : 

My baby ! I want my baby ! 

He shall be brouglit to you/’ said the priest, '' but first I 
shall order some restorative.” He stepped into the ante-chamber, 
and ringing, gave an order that Mrs. Brown should send up some 
wine and other nourishment. 

Then he asked her how she felt, and if there was anything 
troubling her conscience, in case God should will to call her to 
Himself. 

“ I fear He will not. Father,” she said, faintly. I feel that 
I must live for my child. But I shall prepare myself and make 
my confession shortly. First, I would like to see my AVilfrid.” 

And so you shall when you have had some nourishment, 
and then you shall think of your confession, if you feel able.” The 
]u*iest left her and paced up and down the ante-room, reading 
his hreviary. He saw that rest and quiet were what she most 
needed, and he would not let her excite herself by talking of 
painful things. 

A l)ird was twittering without on one of the elm trees, the 
hum of drowsy insects was plainly perceptible, and all those sub- 
dued noises which seem to blend with the stillness of a summer’s 
day in the country, while within upon the bed lay that half-con- 
scious life, careless of all sounds, hovering on the threshold of 
death. Father Aubril glanced in now and again. It seemed to 
him that the face grew paler each time, while the eyes remained 
lialf open and the lips parted. The priest thought, in his im- 
])atience, that Mrs. Brown was an unpardonalde time in sending 



* Hhe was in the very act of draining a glass which she had taken from 

the tray.” 


46 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR, 


up the restorative, and he determined to tell her that she 
must remain with her mistress or leave a competent person in 
charge. 

He closed his breviary and resolved to go himself to Mrs. 
Brown and explain to her the gravity of the situation. He passed 
hastily through the door of the ante-chamber, and as he did so 
he was the witness of a little scene which left a distinctly un- 
favorable impression upon his mind. There was a great window 
in that corridor which let in a flood of sunlight, and in the very 
center of its radiance stood an old negress, long in the service 
of the Pilkingtons, as Father Auhril knew well. She held a tray, 
upon which were arranged the refreshments which he had or- 
dered. But beside her was a girl in a neat print dress and trim 
cap and apron. 

Father Auhril at once recognized her as the girl he had so 
often seen with the baby in her arms. It was the nurse, Lucy, 
and to the priest’s astonishment she was in the very act of drain- 
ing a glass which she had taken from the tray, and he caught 
the words which she had spoken as she raised it to her lips. 

You go on down again, Diana, and tell old Brown to fill the 
glass. Say she drank it, or the priest, or any one.” 

‘^’Fore God, Lucy, you oughter be ashamed to drink the wine 
Mrs. Brown sent up for Missis,” protested the old negress. 

Here Lucy caught sight of the priest’s stern face and very 
nearly dropped the glass. 

I — I was takin’ a drink of milk,” she said, curtseying and 
trembling. 

Father Auhril’s glance continued to search her face, but he 
said not a single word to her. He addressed the negress instead. 

te A o\i caxx in getting that wine for Mrs. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


47 


Pilkington. She is all but fainting and I was on my way to Mrs. 
Brown’s room to find out the cause of so much delay.” 

The negress was frightened, too, and hurried off. 

Yes, sah,” she said, I’ll be quick, sah ! ” 

She was a Methodist, and had a vague idea that this Cat’lic ” 
priest might in his anger cast some sort of spell over her. The 
priest watched her trotting away as fast as her old feet could carry 
her, and could scarce repress a smile, so quaint a figure was she. 
Lucy fied, too, in all haste, never daring so much as to glance at 
Father Aubril. He, left alone, stood near the window and re- 
fiected. This incident, slight as it was, filled the mind of the 
priest with mistrust of the girl Lucy. He reflected that she was 
by no means the sort of person to intrust with the care of a 
young baby. He thought of the Irish girl whom he had seen that 
morning. Honesty was written in every line of her broad, open 
face. 

I wish it had been she who had the care of the child,” he 
reflected, with a sigh. She is of the Irish, the faithful Irish, 
and she loves her mistress, as is very plainly seen.” 

Still he did not feel called upon to interfere, nor would he 
mention to Mrs. Brown the scene he had just witnessed. There 
was trouble enough in the house and he did not wish, moreover, 
to deprive this girl of her place without graver reason. Perhaps 
he thought the fright she had got, in seeing him, might be pun- 
ishment sufficient for the offense. 

Mrs. Brown came hurrying herself this time with refresh- 
ment for her mistress, and apologizing to the priest for not hav- 
ing been up before by the fact that she and the butler had been 
talking over the arrangements for the sad event of that after- 
noon, — the arrival of the body, and the still sadder one to come, 


48 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


the funeral of the deceased. Father xYubril having notified the 
comnianding officer of Captain Ihlkington’s regiment, all details 
were left in their hands. 

What a pity, sir,’^ cried Mrs. Brown, that Mr. Gray stone 
is away off there in France.^^ 

'Mt is indeed a pity,’’ said Father Aubril. 'Mlis presence 
would have been such a comfort to poor ^Irs. Pilkington.” 

Aye, that it would, for he is the best of uncles,” cried Mrs. 
Brown. 

The other relatives must be notified, however,” said the 
priest. 

Wills has done that, sir, already,” said Mrs. Brown. We 
have had a busy morning, sir, him and me.” 

Well, now, when you have given the wine to your mistress, 
she would like to have Master Wilfrid brought to her.” 

Poor lamb ! poor lamb ! ” sobbed Mrs. Brown. 

And, indeed, it was a touching sight when the unconscious 
infant, laughing and playing in its buoyant health and spirits, 
was placed in those poor, frail arms, which had seemed at one 
blow deprived of all their strength. The wan face of the mother 
brightened faintly and she gazed with a long, wistful look into 
the big eyes of the child. She said no word, no lament escaped 
her lips, but the deepest pathos lay in this uncomplaining ac- 
ceptance of a sorrow beyond speech and in the effort to concen- 
trate her thoughts upon this only object of her love. The priest, 
seeing her so much stronger, went awa}^, saying he would come 
that evening. 

To hear my confession ? ” she inquired, in her weak, lan- 
guid voice. A^es, it will be better. But I am not going to die — 
not for a long, long time.” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


4i> 


After this the eyes closed again, and leaving the child beside 
her, Mrs. Brown darkened the room, drew the bed curtains, and 
sat down herself to watch beside the patient. 



50 


TEE PILKINGTON HEIR, 



CHAP, TER VII. 

IN WHICH LUCY GIVES JIM A PROMISE AND A CHILD IS FOUND 

IN A CRECHE. 

Lucy^ terrified at having been detected by Father Anbril in 
such an act, flew up to her own room to think it over. Her re- 
flections were far from pleasant. 

The priest will never rest now till he gets me out of here/’ 
she said. He knows, I suppose, that I never go to Mass, and 
he’s down on me for that. Perhaps he’s told Mrs. Brown already, 
and the spiteful old thing will be for putting me out with no 
notice. It’s a good place, too, and I suppose the Missis is better 
than some fine ladies. I used to hate her for bein’ too lucky. 
She’s not in luck just now, though. For the Captain was took 
off awful sudden and she was fond of him, I will say, and he 
just the same of her.” 

She roused herself presently, and went to the glass to gaze 
at herself, which was a favorite occupation of hers. 

Not that I’d mind bein’ a young and pretty widow myself,” 
she said, trying to imagine the effect of widow’s weeds on her 
])ink and white complexion. She knew that Jim Hollis would 
soon be waiting for her near the well, and she added a bright 
ribbon to her costume and practised before the mirror what she 
thought was a very bewitching smile. 

Jim was considerably more communicative that night. Indeed, 
he seemed excited, as if by a sudden stroke of luck. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


51 


Lucy/’ he said, in a whisper husky from emotion, don’t 
you want to be rich, girl ? Don’t you want to be like other folks ? 
The way’s clear, my dear, only do as I ask you.” 

Lucy was somewhat frightened at his manner, but he drew 
closer and whispered more eagerly still : 

It’s another game we’re playin’ now, since the last time I 
seen you. The stakes is changed. They’re higher. ’Cause why ? 



“She carried it to tchcrc some of the Sisters were pacing up and down 

at recreation.’* 


’C^ause the Captain’s out of the way, and we’re playin’ now for 
the whole estate, not for any reward for bringing back the child 
or the like of that. We’re playin’ for hush money, my lass, that’ll 
be paid us regular.” 

Lucy looked at him to see if he had been drinking. There 
was a touch of horror in the glance she gave him as she shrank 
back. 

What’s that you say about the Captain ? ” she said. 



52 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


No, 1 hadn't no hand in that/" Jim cried. I guess it was 
just the fortune of war. But if you could hook the brat and get 
liim out of the way you'd never have to work no more, Lucy, 
my dear.’’ 

I’ll do no such thing,” cried Lucy, indignantly. What do 
you take me for ? ” 

She had been really shocked in so far as her light nature per- 
mitted by the tragic death of Ca])tain Pilkington and the pros- 
tration of his wife. It seemed to bring home to her, too, the 
fact that none need be envied here on earth, for the ])low may 
be impending over their heads when they seem at the zenith of 
fame, of happiness, or prosperity. 

Take the child away!” she cried, as Jim stood silent. 

Why, you might just as well kill her outright, so you might, 
Jim Hollis.” ' 

Jim concealed a sneer by putting his hand to his face. 

I always knew as you was tender-hearted, Tmcy, and it does 
you credit. But after all, you may be only standin’ in the lady’s 
light. After a time she might have the chance to marry a hand- 
some gentleman that had this estate or some other. Now the 
child, it would be only in the way and she better off without it.” 

How can you speak of her marry in’ again, and the poor 
Captain not even buried,” said Lucy, with a corner of her apron 
to her eyes. She felt bound to live up to the character her lover 
had given her and to show that she was tender-hearted. Indeed, 
it isn’t marry in’ that’s in her mind. She thinks of nothin’ but 
the child, as Mrs. Brown was a-tellin’ us at supper this very eve- 
ning. And she never will think of nothin’ else. I wouldn’t he 
the one to take it from her; no, not if you was to kill me, Jim 
Hollis.” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


53 


Well, we’ll say no more about it, Lucy, my lass,” said Jim, 
in his most persuasive tone. It was all to please you that I 
fell in with the plan. I had a notion you wanted to be rich — and 
that you and I might get married.” He heaved a deep sigh. 

It puts that off indefinite,” he said. “ I can’t marry as 
things is. It’s hard, but there’s nothing to be done but go away 
from here and try my luck elsewhere.” 

He watched the girl narrowly as he spoke, with eyes close 
together. He saw that his words had made an impression. 

Good-by ! ” he said, holding out his hand. I guess you’re 
right and I’m all wrong. But it’s no use in my cornin’ here 
again, only jest to harrow up my feelin’s.” 

Lucy did not give him her hand, but turned away her head 
instead to reflect. 

Good-by, my lass,” he repeated. 

It wouldn’t be no use anyway,” she said. What could 
you and me do with the child ? ” 

A sinister smile passed over the man’s face, unobserved by 
the hesitating Lucy. The smile had a twofold meaning. He 
smiled because he saw the girl was yielding, and also because the 
difficulty she made was a small one. He stood still and watched 
her. 

We’d only be caught and given to the police,” went on Lucy, 
'' and I’d get the worst of it. Besides, who’s to give us the money 
for the job ? ” 

Hollis was still silent. Lucy turned upon him and stamped 
her foot. 

Why don’t you speak ? Why do you stand staring there ? ” 
''Listen, my girl,” said Hollis, "we’d better throw up this 
job. I see your heart’s not in it and maybe you’d no mind to 


54 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


marry me anyway. So things is best as they be, and Fm blame 
glad that are satisfied with your lot, as the parsons bid 
us to be. Let it be good-by once and for all, Lucy.’^ lie turned 
with a rapid stride, pretending to be overcome with emotion. 
When be got two or three yards away he stopped : 

T might as well tell you,^’ be said, that the child would 
ha’ been provided for l)eautiful. T don’t want you to go and 
think ill of me. d’bere’s a gentleman who might l)e crossin’ to 
France al)out the same time that a decent widow woman would 
he goin’, and he’d have no objection in life to seein’ that the 
woman acted fair, and that the child was given to the kind nuns 
when the ship arrived. And as for the gentleman, why, he 
wouldn’t mind one hit providin’ for you and me to the end of 
our days, or, if the worst came to the worst, and it leaked out 
as how he’d been on the same outgoin’ vessel as the child, why 
he’d have to buy you and me off, Lucy, my dear. I thought I’d 
put all that straight in your mind before 1 hid you good-hy, my 
lass, hopin’ as how you’ll find another sweetheart and advisin’ you 
to say nothin’ up yonder of what you’ve heard.” 

Lucy did not guess it, hut the fellow was very sure of her 
indeed when he revealed so much. As he began to walk rapidly 
away Juicy called after him : 

^Mim! Jim!” 

And when he did not answer she put her handkerchief to 
her eyes, and began to cry real tears at last. 

0 Jim,” she sobbed, “ don’t leave me like that. I can’t 
bear it.” 

It’s got to he done,” said Jim, obdurately. I ain’t got 
the means to marry, and I couldn’t ask you to starve, could I now, 
my girl ? ” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


•55 


Jim/’ said Lucy, in a very low voice, I’ve been thinking 
over what you said. The Missis up yonder is so low that the 
priest tells ^Irs. Brown he fears she’s goin’ to die. Now if she’s 
that low, it’ll be a relief to all concerned to have the baby dis- 
posed of, and as you say it’ll be well cared for, why maybe it’s 
for the best. So give me till to-morrow night to think it over, 
and then. I’ll give my answer.” 

Lucy,” said Jim, I’m out of it. I won’t think of it no 
more.” 

For my sake, Jim,” she pleaded. Think how nice and 
cozy ^ The Sun ’ would l)e and how much more money we might 
make tliere.” 

Don’t tempt me, Lucy.” 

But I thought you wanted to be rich and to marry me,” 
said Tjucy, fairly sobbing. 

Oh, hang it all!” said Jim, ^^I can’t bear tears. If you 
really wants to try your luck, I won’t stand in your way, and I’ll 
help you as much as I can.” 

You’re sure no harm will come to the child?” asked Lucy, 
with a last twinge of conscience. 

Sure as that I see your face.” 

^S\nd some time when we’d got the money and all was safe, 
we might let the mother have the baby back,” went on Lucy. 

To be sure!” said Jim, turning away his head to wink at 
some imaginary fellow conspirator. Only I thought she was 
going to die.” 

lie could not resist throwing this mischievous dart at the 
girl, who reddened as she hastily replied : 

Oh, well, I mean if she should live, of course.” 

^‘^And you’ll really hook the brat?” asked Jim. 


56 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


To-morrow night/^ said Lucy. The funeral will be just 
over then, and she’ll be more than ever broke up with grief, and 
I’m certain to have the child in the nursery all to myself.” 

^^And to-morrow night will answer us first rate,” said Jim 
Hollis. There’s a ship that sails with the first tide in the morn- 
ing, and a gentleman what has remained over for the funeral 
and sets out next day for the coast of France.” 

To-morrow night, then, I give him to you here,” said Lucy, 
her face hardening into a look of determination, as she thought 
that she might be getting notice to leave in any case on account 
of the occurrence of that morning. 

She waved her hand and nodded to Jim as she tripped away, 
reflecting that she could wind Jim Hollis round her little finger, 
while he stood looking after her musing. 

Women is soft critters,” he said to himself. Easy to 
catch, particularly when your bait’s money.” 

For Jim judged womankind and mankind, too, by his own 
standard. 

And so it came about, through those meetings at the well of 
a vain and shallow girl with an unscrupulous man, that the fun- 
eral of Captain Pilkington was coincident with a second and in 
some respects a heavier blow dealt to the fair young mistress of 
the Manor, who had lately been the envied of all observers. And 
so it chanced that as the shadows were falling over a great French 
city, a stirring commercial mart, the hell of the creche at the 
Foundling Hospital was heard to ring violently. The Sister 
Portress who opened the door lifted the child from the crib, sur- 
prised at its weight and general appearance. She carried it to 
where some of the Sisters were pacing up and down at recrea- 
tion. They gathered about to look at the baby. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


57 


My, but he is becUitiful/’ they said. A boy, with a face 
of intelligence — and at least six months old ! ’’ 

Strange, is it not ? cried one who had not before spoken. 

We are usually left new-born babes.’^ 

A^es,” said an older Sister, it is very singular that ho , 
should be brought here at an age so advanced.’^ 

Perhaps,^^ ventured the youngest and most timid, who had 
but recently made her vows, there is something wrong, some- 
thing dishonest in the affair.^^ 

Alas ! said the elder, Crime is so common, ambition, dis- 
honesty, fraud, what you will. My Sisters, we should keep near 
to God. And there is the Angelus, the voice of peace.^^ 

They knelt to say the prayer, after which the baby was hur- 
ried away to the vacant cot which awaited it, after the usual 
formalities had been complied with. But the Sisters continued 
their walk, being joined by others in groups of two or three. The 
solemnity of late autumn was in the air, a sadness which comes 
in the fall of the year. But to these quiet souls of peace, who 
recked little of the seasons and their changes, there was a sort 
of perpetual spring. So that they laughed gaily, and conversed 
of all that had reached their ears during the day, the simple hap- 
penings of convent-life or the deeper events which had touched 
it from without. The newly arrived baby, with the unusual cir- 
cumstances of its being, at least, a half year old, excited fresh 
comment as it was passed from mouth to mouth, and the Sisters 
wondered who had brought it. For the Sister Portress had got 
no glimpse of the tall man, who, having laid the infant in the 
crCmhe, had slunk hastily away lest the light of the lamp should 
betray him. 


58 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER yill. 

WHICH SISTER MARGARET HAS A THEORY. 

Next morning the Superior of the convent sat with her great 
registry hook before her, receiving the report of the Sisters, and 
that concerning the latest arrival was very seriously considered. 
The age of the child, his development, his health, were all taken 
into account and entered in the record, which was carefully kept, 
so that in after }'ears there would be little difficulty in identifying 
any child. 

You are, then, inclined to think. Sister ^largaret,’’ ob- 
served the Superior, ^ffihat this child is not of French parent- 
age ? ” 

That is what has occurred to me,’^ said Sister Margaret, a 
stout and middle-aged Religious, who stood very high in the 
councils of the Order for merit as well as for experience. 

Upon what do you base your theory ? ” inquired the Superior. 

Upon the color of his eyes, his complexion — everything about 
him,^’ declared Sister ^largaret. 

^MVould you suppose him to he Irish or Scotch?” asked the 
Superior. 

Sister Margaret shook her head as she replied: 

“Of neither, I should say.” 

“ English, then, perhaps ? ” 

Sister Margaret hesitated. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


59 


It may be/^ she remarked, but in truth I have got it into 
my head that this infant may be an i^merican/’ 

An American ! cried the Superior, in astonishment, and 

why ? 

From various indications. Reverend Mother, and you know 
I have lived among those people before entering religion and 
have seen something of them since/^ 

That is true. Sister, but I should like much to have some 
definite basis for this theory of yours/’ 

And that is what I can not give you, ^lother,” said the 
good-humored Sister, but should my theory be correct we may 
hold the key to a mystery.” 

“ It might be the child of American parents residing here,” 
objected the Superior. 

True — but would it not, then, have been sent to the Hos- 
pital sooner? The age of Ihe child appears to me to support my 
theory,” said Sister ^Fargaret. 

And yet it remains a theory, dear Sister,” smiled the 
Superior. But you say that there were no signs of identifica- 
tion u])on the child ? ” 

Absolutely none. It appeared to me that they had been de- 
liberately removed.” 

Strange ! ” murmured the Superior, '' and yet we see so 
much that is strange. You will cut off a lock of the hair, keep 
a fragment of each of its garments, and note even the smallest 
circumstances connected with it.” 

I have already done so, IMother.” 

'Hn that case I will make the official entry here; nothing 

remains but to await the event. 

When brother Immanuel was left alone she sat deep in thought 


60 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


for some moments. She was a woman of great penetration, of 
rare discernment. In this case it may possibly not be the 

parents at all/’ she reflected. The child may have been stolen. 
Yet I can no nothing. 1 can neither advertise nor make the 
matter public. But I will inquire discreetly, and first of all I 
shall speak to Father Christian when he comes to-day for the 
baptisms.” 

After that she had to dismiss the matter from her mind, as 
many cares and duties came crowding upon her. For she visited 
that great establishment from garret to cellar every day, sug- 
gesting improvements here, commending what had been done 
there, and, in general, finding as little fault as possible. She 
loved to see the little ones safe and snug in their cots as she 
])assed through the several wards, or the older children in the 
infant class or at play out in the grassy yard. She was as a 
mother to all these helpless ones thrown upon her care, and she 
had to keep order as well, which was a more difficult matter, 
among the bevies of nurses, who in each ward were under control 
and supervision of a Sister. Then there were the kitchens and 
the larders to be visited, and the accounts to be overlooked and 
the resources to be considered. 

As she passed through those wards or classes in which were 
the older children, there were always half a dozen or more diner- 
ing to her skirts and trying to lisp her name. She alwavs said 
that one of her greatest trials was when she had to send these 
little ones away to distant homes and to parents who adopted 
them. 

That afternoon, after the entry had been made in the great 
book concerning the newcomer. Father Christian, the chaplain, 
came to baptize as many of the little waifs as seemed destined 









‘‘ Father Christian came to baptize the little waifs.” 


63 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


for heaven^ as well as those who were known to be of Catholic 
parentage. There were twelve in all, and the tapers in the great 
chandeliers cast a luster upon each Sister as she advanced in turn 
with her little charge to the holy font, seeming a very personifica- 
tion of its good angel. Names were selected, needless to say 
from the calendar of the Church or from among the choirs of 
angels, and the twelve new Christians who had come into posses- 
sion of their kingdom showed their appreciation of that fact 
by a most unearthly yelling and a simultaneous kicking and strug- 
gling. So that tlie nuns laughed and said that all the dozen 
would be sure to survive after all, having cried at the pitch of 
their lungs when the devil was being driven out. 

But as Father Christian took off his stole in the sacristy, the 
Superior came to him, bringing the newcomer, who had been 
called for convenience Pierre. She told the priest what they knew 
of its coming and asked what he thought of ])aptizing it. 

It is in no immediate danger of dying,” he said, with a 
smile, but if you hear nothing farther about it, I may give it 
conditional baptism when I come again.” 

Of course,” he added, glancing a second time at the child, 
if it is of Catholic parents, be assured that it had long since had 
the holy water poured upon its head.” 

The Superior told him of Sister Margaret’s theory that the 
child was an American. 

Truly ! ” cried the priest, interested at once — for had he 
not a brother in America who was a priest. Father James Aubril, 
from whom he heard just as often as it was possible? 

I will write to Father James and tell him of this,” said 
Father Christian. 

The very thing ! ” cried the Superior, for if Sister Mar- 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


63 


garet’s suspicions should be correct you may be able to hear some- 
thing about the child from your brother/^ 

I will do my best/^ said Father Christian, warmly, to get 
news, if there is any to be got, and you can depend on Father * 
James. lie is always ready to help in any good cause.’’ 

As he took leave of the Superior and went out on the steps 
to await the carriage, he saw two of the nurses carrying infants 
in their arms up and down in the sunshine, and he could not 
help thanking God who had provided so good a refuge for these 
waifs of humanity. 



64 


THE PI LEI NOT ON HEIR. 


CHAPTER IX. 

IN WHICH FATHER AUBIUL'’s SUSPICIONS ARE STRENGTHENED AND 
IN WHICH HE CONFERS WITH CARLO. 

Almost at this very time Father James Aubril was on his 
way home from a visit to the unfortunate Mrs. Pilkington. He 
had found her in a calm, which was almost a stupor. She was 
sitting in the old place on the terrace, which the priest had for- 
merly associated with all that was joyful and prosperous in 
life. The widow’s dress and cap seemed to shut her from that 
lovely landscape as within a circle of sorrow, marking her amid 
all its beauties as the bereaved. Of course he had seen her more 
than once since that second and still more terrible bereavement, 
the loss of her child, under circumstances the most mysterious. 
In the one case her husband was at rest in that old burying- 
ground where she could visit his grave. In the other her child 
had disappeared into the vast gulf of the world’s wickedness, if, 
indeed, it were still alive. 

The whole police of the country had been on the alert. Re- 
wards had been offered, skilled detectives had gone to work for 
the mere desire of fame, but none had hitherto traced the where- 
abouts of the child. Sometimes Father Aubril feared that the 
crime of murder had been added to that of theft. But the mother 
seemed to have a constant hope that her boy was still alive some- 
where, and that some time, somehow, it might be restored to her. 
This hope, indeed, seemed to keep her alive. The servants had, 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


65 


of course, been examined, one and all. In vain. Lucy had seemed 
completely prostrated by tlie occurrence, and her grief had seemed 
so genuine that she could scarcely be suspected. The rigid ques- 
tioning which she had undergone from the police had elicited 
nothing. Some weeks after the disappearance of the child she 
had told the mistress, with a very pretty embarrassment that 
she would have to be leaving her to get married. 



"^7 wonder if you have anythiny against that girl, my poor Carlo,’ said the 

priest.” 


Indeed, ma^am,^'’ she had added, we have been promised, 
Jim and I, this long time, and were to have been married a 
month ago, but I told him I couldn’t have the heart, just after — ” 
Here her words became indistinct, the apron going to her 
eyes. Then she blurted out : 

My precious baby — and yours, ma’am! Oh, no, I couldn’t 
leave you in grief like that.” 

You are very good, Lucy,” said the mistress, in the apathetic 


CO 


THE IHLKINGTON HEIR. 


voice which had become habitual to lier, and 1 am grateful. 
But pray don’t postpone your marriage again upon my account. 
No one can help nie.’^ 

On the present occasion, the first storm of grief, of terror, of 
susj)ense, had })assed, and it was a marble image that greeted 
the old priest. 

I have reached the limit of suffering,” she said, quietly, 
there is nothing else left. ^ly own death would l)e a boon.” 
^Olut you have accepted this second cross like the first ? ” asked 
the priest, with that note of tender sympathy in his voice which 
made his ministrations so acceptable to poor and rich alike. 

Mrs. Pilkington bowed her head. 

1 have tried to accept it,” she said, and to say His will 
be done.” 

That must surely bring a blessing, that 'beautiful resigna- 
tion,” said the priest. Oh, be sure that somewhere, some time, 
a great grace is coming to you.” 

As the priest left her and walked homeward, he was thinking 
how he used to see the nurse, in cap and apron, carrying the 
baby to and fro upon the lawn, and Avhat a pretty ])icture the 
sight had made, framed by that landscape. The nurse? Some 
half memory, a something unpleasant leaped into his mind, swift 
as a poisoned dart. The nurse was that same Lucy whom he had 
surprised drinking her mistress’ wine and whom he had set down 
as being untrustworthv for the care of a child. 

Preoccupied with these thoughts he passed through the woods. 
It was late November now, and there were traces of the coming 
desolation of winter. All at once he heard a crackling of leaves 
and a breaking of boughs, and presently a woolly head was thrust 
into his hand. It was Carlo, the great house-dog of the Pilking- 


THE PILE I NOT ON HEIR. 


67 


tons, who was more than ever the inseparable companion of the 
lady, and who had devotedly loved the lost infant. 

Eh, Carlo, is it you, my friend ? cried the priest, and as 
he patted his head, he went on to say : “ But why, why, old dog, 
did you let the baby be stolen? The baby, you know, the little 
Wilfrid ? ’’ 

The dog stopped, pricked up his ears, and looking up into the 
face of the priest gave a low whine. 

He all but si)caks," said the priest, he understands what I 
say and would express his sentiments.^’ 

Almost instantly the dog’s humor changed. His hair bristled 
and stood erect, he drew back his li})s, showing his teeth in a 
savage growl. Father Aubril following the direction of the dog’.s 
glance, perceived that it was that same Lucy, the nurse, of whom 
he had been himself so lately thinking. She was speeding toward 
the village, probably on some errand for her mistress, as the priest 
thought. But there was that in her face which he disliked, a 
furtive avoidance ofihis eyes — and there was the dog’s pronounced 
antagonism to her; her terror of the animal seemed to form an- 
other link in the chain of sus])icion. 

Here the priest pulled himself up short. This would not do. 
Whither were his thoughts tending, where was the long-sulTering 
charity he had preached? Because he had detected this young 
woman in a petty act of dishonesty, because she had a vain and 
foolish face, with shifty eyes, and because Carlo, who, it was 
true, was usually gentle with every one, had taken such a dislike 
to her, was he, then, to conclude that she was to be suspected of 
greater evil? Why, her mistress had told him half an hour be- 
fore of the girl’s devojion, giving as an instance that she had 
voluntarily postponed her marriage at the time of the last great 


68 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


trouble. But here again, and the priest’s thoughts, despite him, 
were oh at a gallop. She was going to be married, though it did 


not seem that her mistress had been previously informed of it. 
There was a sweetheart, and what kind of man \\ as he ? \\ ao 
the marriage a sudden alfair? These were questions which Father 
Aubril promised himself he would answer. Meanwhile, he man- 
aged to i)acify the dog and let the girl pass on. Once she had 
gone Carlo was as gentle as ever, lie came very close to his 
good friend, the priest, being evidently resolved to see him safe 
home. 


I wonder if you have anything against that girl, my poor 
Carlo,” said the ])riest, apostrophizing the dog, or if you are 
idly suspecting her as I have done.” 

The dog wagged his tail and looked up, as if saying : I wish 

I could speak ! ” 

Yes, I wish you could, my canine friend,” said the priest, 
for then would I consult you on many things. For you are 
wise and brave and faithful and discreet.” 

The dog gave a short,* joyous bark, as if he knew he were 
being praised. 

Perhaps you wouldn’t be so discreet, though, if you had 
the gift of speech,” continued the priest. Is that a twinkle I 
see in your eye, you rogue ? Ha ! ha ! mayhap you’d be as great 
‘ a chatterbox as the worst of us. But I wish vou could tell me 
if I have been misjudging this girl.” 

The dog, not being in a position to give such information, 
and feeling, no doubt, the sudden return to gravity in his friend’s 
voice and manner, walked soberly beside him, with ears erect 
and slow steps. He licked the hand with which the priest 
caressed him, as if to assure him of his sympathy and to regret 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


CO 


Ills inability to be of any service in the matter. Could either the 
iiriest or the dog have seen the Hying figure of a man rushing 
away from the IManor by unfrequented paths, in his eagerness 
to catch up with Lucy and warn her to be on her guard at that 
place whither he knew she was proceeding, there would have 
been more cause for questioning. And the dog, at least, might 
have demanded an explanation of the man, who was none other 
than Jim Hollis. 


70 


THE FILKINQTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER X. 

IN WlllCn FATHER AURRIL ASKS JMOELY’s HELP AND SARAH SLATER 

CONFRONTS LUCY. 


P>EFORE reaching home Father Anbril met Deegan, 

leading her horse after her own nnceremonions manner. By a sud- 
den impulse he slackened his ])ace and walkuiJ .beside her. 

^lolly,” said he, of course you have h.eard long Ijefore now 
of the disa])pearance of the Pilkington child?” 

Heard, Father? I should rather think so, for isn't the 
whole country talking ahont it? And it breaks my lu'art.” added 
impulsive i\rolly, to think of her a widow, childless, that young 
thing! 0 Father, isn't it hard to l)car?'’ 

^Mt is,” said Father Anhril, ‘Sind her resignation is heroic. 
Xow 1 know your good heart, and I ask yon if you ca.n help in 
any way to do it.” 

“But what can any of us do?” aski'd ^lolly. “We can't 
bring the d(‘ad to life.” 

“Ao,” said the ])ri(>st, “hut w(‘ might restore a child to its 
mother.'’ 


^lolly looked at Father Anhril, half in amazement, half 
in pity. 

“0 then, Father,” she said, “it’s dead, and there’s no use 
keeping up hope, or breaking her heart with the thought tliat 
somewhere it may he alive. Why,' Father, dear, yon and me that 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


71 


know file world as it is ought to liopo and pray that it’s 
dead.” 

Sto}) ! ” cried the priest, in a. tone of autliority. You 
have no right to put up such a prayer, (lod is the Master of life 
and if lie has seen fit to keep this child alive, lie will protect 
it and return it in 11 is own good time to be its mother’s joy. Be- 
sides, tile mother hopes, nay feels certain that it lives.” 

ft 

They both fell silent then, thinking, while the sun glinted 
about them on the pale remnants of grass and the fast thinning 
leaves skirting the self-same orchard wall, where the priest had 



before met this humble friend. IMolly’s horse jogged on patiently 
behind them. 

^‘^Wliat 1 would ask of you is this,” said Father Aul)ril : In 

your business of peddling you travel much about the country, and 
keep your eyes and ears open. Molly, tell me, did you ever see 
or hear anything which struck you as suspicious ? ’’ 

]\lolly fell into deep thought — then, as she drew very close to 
the priest she said very slowly and deliberately, and in a very 
low voice, as if she were afraid to speak at all : 


72 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


'' Now, it’s only to you, Father, that ever I’d open iny lips, 
but 1 want to know what Fnc}^ from the ]\Ianor is wanting to be 
visiting so often that ould rap, Sarah Slater, for. 

The priest started. Lucy again ! 

xVnd who is Sarah Slater ? ” he asked, quickly. 

'' Not one that you would know or that would be asking 
your ministry,” said Molly, somewdiat evasi\ely. She is an 
ugl}' customer to fall foul of. Some do sa}'^ that she s mixed up 
■with thieves and smugglers, and the Lord knows what. But I 
don’t know anything for certain — it’s all hearsay.” 

^M.et ns keep to the facts,” said the priest, ‘‘I don’t like 
hearsay, especially when it tells what is evil about my neighbor. 
The 'woman Slater is suspected. Lucy visits her. Why? Is she 
a relative ? ” 

Not a hit of it. Father.” 

Were they old acquaintances ? ” 

Not that I know^ of. Lucy comes from up Albany 'way.” 

It is only of late that she goes to see the woman? ” 

I never saw them in company till within the past three 
months.” 

Now,” said the priest, another question before I leave yon. 
What about this man 'whom Imcy is going to marry?” 

Molly gave a long 'whistle, an accomplishment 'which she had 
learned in her regimental days. 

Oh, she’s going to marry him, is she? "Well, I couldn’t 
Avish her 'worse luck. He’s a rapscallion, and any one in the 
country hereabouts 'will tell you the same. He 'was once servant 
to another bad one, that betrayed his country and disgraced his 
regiment. He 'went to England or some'wheres for a bit, and I 
hear he’s back now again in Canada, calling himself a loyalist 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


73 


and liolding a commission in some regiment, which he got by 
tlie dirty work he done.” 

The priest scai'cely listened, dkdes against the reputation of 
others were as gall and wormwood to him. lie cared nothina’ 
about this ofiicer, in whom he had no interest. But it was im- 
portant to learn sometliing of Lucy’s sweetheart. Justice de- 
manded that, for it might throw the strongest light on dark 
places. 

'' There, there,'' said the priest. '' Spare the master — it’s 
the man we have to do with." 

Like master, like man,'’ persisted Molly. How that rascal 
of a master ever came to be a drop's blood to Captain Pilking- 
ton — " 


The priest interrupted. 

To Captain Pilkington? What? Why? You say the master 
of this worthless man is a kinsman of the dead gentleman?" 

To be sure. Father, they’re brothers' sons, the two of them." 

Then that must he the gentleman I met in the hall," thought 
Father Aubril to himself, hut he did not say this aloud. Instead 
he warned the pedler : 

Yot a word of this, T implore you, to any one, my good 
Molly. I must think of it much. T must gather the threads 
together. It may he only the vaguest suspicion, but it may be 
more, and if so, God willing, we shall trace it out." 

He strode off in great excitement, leaving l\rolly and the 
horse far behind. If his suspicions should take form, then there 
might be a hope of recovering the child, or that failing, there 
might at least he certainty of its death. 

Yow it was about that time that Lucy had determined, by 
the advice of Jim Hollis, to keep away from the house of Sarah 


74 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Slater. She had some reason to tliink that hather xViibril was 
watching her, and wlu'n she had inlormc'd Jim, lie had at once 
realized the danger oi' allowing her eonneetion with the notorious 
old woman to be known. It was part of their agreement with 
Sarah that Lucv should visit her at stated times, keeping her 
posted as to what was going on at the Manor and bringing with 
her all sorts of good things from the abundant larder there to 
propitiate this irascible person. Kow Sarah Slater, having once 
got her claws upon that minx Lucy,” as she called her, was by 
no means disposed to let her shake them off. She wanted to keep 
the girl under her thumb, as well as have herself provided with 
delicacies from the big house. So that Lucy’s absence having 
])rolonged itself beyond its wont, Sarah Slater, who was then 
living in the neighborhood, for she frequent!}" changed her place 
of residence, strolled up toward the Manor one serene twilight. 

She did not stop to add anything to the costume which she 
wore in the house, only pinning her shawl tight about her should- 
ers, for it was chill, and arrangijig her cap firmly upon her head. 
This she did with a purpose. Were she to be discovered by any 
of the other servants she could sav, without incriminating Lucv, 
that she had just run in from a neighboring cottage to bog for a 
couple of eggs or a sup of milk for a sick child. She counted on 
being unknown to the servants in general, as her mode of life 
kept her in obscurity and out of the way of honest folk. 

She took a short cut through the woods, her somber figure a 
discordant element in the calm of the twilight. Tier heart, full 
of evil purposes and dark with sinister memories, was out of 
harmony with the tranquil birds, who had just completed the task 
appointed of song and cheeiLulness ; with the busy insects, who 
had likewise followed the divine law; with all animate and in- 



“ t^arah, with incrcdihle swif t m sfi, ira.s at her side.’’ 


7G 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


animate things that had soi’ved tlioir part in the one grand 
scheme. 

Evil is always disorder, and the peace of that quiet spot 
seemed in a fashion disturbed by the advent of this schemer. 
Hardened of feature and expression, dark of coloring, there was 
something of force and energy in the face and figure of Sarah 
Slater that ini])ressed the weak. It seemed strange to think that 
she, too, liad once been young, and had walked in innocence in 
green woods, and had known what it was to pray and to be happy. 
But that was long ago, and she would not recall that time; she 
would not let the light whisper of the leaves tell her of it, nor 
the murmuring grasses, nor the leaping, laughing brook, sporting 
on its way. She hardened her heart, and in bitterness of soul 
went on, an avenging fate following the vain and heartless Lucy 
up yonder at the Manor. 

It was not I who brought her into this,’’ said Sarah Slater, 
sternly to herself. She came to me and hegged me to help 
her and Jim Hollis in this devil’s work. That was Jim’s doin’, 
and he was put up to the whole job by another. But the girl 
will pay for it to the last farthing, too, or I’ll land her in the 
penitential^.” 

Lucy was husy that evening in the grent larder, close to the 
cellars.' It was part of her duty to go over the stores there and 
report every evening to ^Trs. Brown, who made a weekly visit 
there herself. This special function of hers had enabled Lucy 
to cater to Sarah Slater’s experienced palate in a variety of ways. 
On tins particular evening the girl threw open the iron door to 
let in ])lenty of air, and stood upon the hard cement floor looking 
complacently out into the woods. She had not to trouble her 
head that night to ])ick and choose for Sarah Slater. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


77 


That had been a dangerous game, and she was glad to be done 
with it. Besides, to her indolent nature, it was no small trouble 
to fetch and carry for that horrid old thing.” Sarah might not 
like it, but Jim would settle that with her, and what could she 
do? She dared not expose them without bringing herself into 
the alfair. So Lucy laughed easily and drank in the breezes 
from the forest, and did not know that up those paths, already 
strewn thickly with the fallen leaves, her evil genius was advane- 


int^ 


Lucy was in no hurry to be gone. She had nothing to do 
above stairs. The 2)lace was ever so much easier since that l)lessed 
baby had been gone. She had not to sit upstairs in the gloomy 
nursery. And the ^lissis, after all, had taken it very well, and 
after the first grief was not so ill-pleased to be rid of it, so that 
when her mourning for Captain Pilkington was done she might 
be free to travel abroad ; and who knew but what some fortunate 
man might again win the hand of the pretty widow? 

Such were the amiable Lucy’s reflections as she stood in the 
doorway. She half cx])ccted Jim. She had hinted to him that 
this was a far more retired spot than the well if he had anything 
particular to say. And as she stood and so reflected, she saw 
emerging from the woods, and advancing swiftly toward her, 
stern and menacing as fate, Sarah Slater. 

She couldvnot be deceived. There were no other face and figure 
like those. She had often thought with a shudder how terrible 
they were, and wished that Jim had chosen some one else than 
this woman to help them in their enterprise. But he had replied 
that Sarah Slater was worth a dozen ordinary women. Lucy 
looked helplessly about her, and stepping out from the doorway, 
took a few hurried steps in the opposite direction from that in 


78 


THE PILE I NOT ON HEIR. 


which this terrible figure came. But Sarah, with incredible 
swiftness was at her side, holding her by the arm. 

Go back in there, you simpleton,^^ she exclaimed, in her 
deep, hoarse tones, that Lucy knew so well, unless you want 
me to denounce you before them all and have the constable after 
you this very night. 

Lucy, completely cowed, passed under shelter again, and 
Sarah, entering too, confronted her. 

Now,’’ said she, I must hear what you have to say, and 
no quibbling, no lying, girl, for if it's necessary I’ll lock myself 
in here with you and take from now till morning to get at the 
truth. Why didn't you come to me these three weeks back ? ” 

I couldn't get out,” quavered Lucy. 

Lie the first,” said Sarah, clenching her fist in wrath. 

I was afraid to go to you any more,” Inicy faltered. 

That sounds more like the truth, at any rate,” said the old 
woman, but fear or no fear, you can’t shake me off like a 
withered leaf.” 

Tmcy had resort to her usual resource, tears, but the stern 
woman dided them very quickly. 

If I see but a drop of those crocodile tears on your lying 
cheek,” said she, I’ll lodge you in jail for that offense alone. 
Now tell me in two words why you were afraid to come to my 
house when vou’ve been there twice a week these three months ? ” 
I thought the priest suspected,” whimpered Lucy. 

A slight change passed over the stony countenance of the 
woman. Was it fear or anxiety? Slight as it was, Lucy detected 
it and pressed the advantage. 

^^You know what the priest is when he gets on a scents” she 
said, with a persuasive gesture of her arm. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


79 


\ es/’ said Sarah Slater, “ I know what the priest is, though 
he doesn’t know me. At least, he hasn’t known me these forty 


years. 

u 




ell, tlien, you see 1 couldn't come,” said foolish Lucy. 

‘LI see no such a tiling,^’ cried the old woman, so fiercely that 
Lucy involuntarily threw out her hand in alarm. “ For come 
you must, or send you must, oi- better still. I’ll come here.” 

“ Oh, no,” cried Lucy ; “ that would be the most dangerous 
of all.” 

“ Dangerous, my girl,” said Sarah Slater, with her evil sneer, 
“ and who put it into your foolish head that you could play with 
fire and not <>;et hurt? Who told you that vou could do evil and 
play good ? ’’ 

Lucy had no answer to make. She only stood and trembled. 

“ For let me tell you, my fine lady's maid, my viper warmed 
in a soft nest,” the hag continued, ‘‘ 3 ’ou've committed an ugl}^ 
crime, which might send you to jail for your life, or, supposing 
the child were found to he dead, might bring you to the gallows.” 

Though this was, perhaps, a flight of rhetoric on Sarah’s part, 
it terrified the weak girl, so that hut for her greater terror of this 
evil woman she would have gone ijito hysterics. 

Listen, my jade. Folks say that I’m had — and bad I am, hut 
] didn’t do what you’ve done. Who was ever kind to me, as your 
master and your mistress were kind to you — aye, kind and gen- 
erous, heaping favors on you. You had a good home and no 
temptation to evil. You saw nothing but good around ^mu. And 
at a time when ^mur mistress was all hut dead from the loss of 
her husband, what did 3 ^ou do, ^mu heartless minx? You stole 
her child, to please that devil’s limb, Jim Hollis, and you sent 
it where the mother’s eves will never look on it again.” 


80 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


But it was you tliat helped us,’’ put in Lucy, tremulously, 
you didn’t think it so bad then.” 

I did think it bad. 1 thought it devilish. But it is part 
of iny trade to help all evildoers. 1 had never been kindly treated 
by Mrs. ihlkington or any other. Never, never, from my baby- 
hood up.” 

There was a kind of despair in the woman's tone, and some 
shadow of a feeling which could never have touched the shallow 
nature beside her. 

But,” she went on, I took the child in the way of business 
and sent it — well, where it won't come back in a hurry.” 

JLen in her fright Tmcy gasped out : 

But you didn't kill it? ” 

You might have asked that question sooner,” snarled the 
old woman. But I didn't kill it. It was safer in my hands 
than in yours, if once your vanity and greed were played upon.” 
These were awful words and caused the girl to tremble. 

I know you better than vou know vourself, Lucv Lawless, 
and I won’t spare you,” went on this terrible censor. But I 
came here now to let vou know once for all that vou made a 
bargain with me, and that bargain you’ll have to keep.” 

She raised a warning finger. 

V* o 

Yes, every iota of it,” she said. You’ll come when T call 
and you’ll fetch when I bid you. You and that cur Jim Hollis 
will crawl before me, or I’ll send you both to feed the gallows.” 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


81 


CHAPTER XT. 

IN AVlIlCn- LUCY RECALLS THE PAST. 

Pefore Lucy could answer, if, indeed, she had any answer 
to make, tlie old uoman was gone, and her figure, as she plunged 
into the woods, seemed part of the chill and gliastliness that were 
creeping on with the night. A crow, startled by her advent, rose 
above the tree tops with a shrill cry, and a bat or two aroused 
swung back and forth, aimlessly, meeting and striking together 
with a sharp sound, like the crackling of metal in the fire. Lucy 
stood still, framed in the doorway, afraid' to move, and a prey 
to a thousand terrors. The snapping of a hough, the insects 
in the grass, caused her to start. Her awakened conscience was 
peopling every nook and corner about her with strange shapes. 
It filled the gloom and hush with its horror. The iron 
doors behind her were as those of the prison in Avhich Sarah 
Slater had threatened to cast her. The cold touch of the key 
which she took mechanically from a hook upon the wall made 
her shrink, with its suggestion of fetters upon her wrists. 

The moaning sound in the wind seemed as weird voices lament- 
ing, the distant call of the night-hii’d as some omen of evil. She 
wished for Jim Hollis and yet shrank Avith an indescribable 
loathing from the thought of him Avho had involved her in all 
this network of Avickedness. 

She mechanically drcAV the iron door of the larder into posi- 


83 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


tion, and then stood still in the passageway outside and trembled 

all over at the echo it made. Then she stepped over the threshold 

« 

of the outer door, and was thankful to feel the soft, cool grass 
under her feet. Before she stirred again, however, she looked 
about her in ail directions with a hundred new apprehensions. 
She took a few steps and stood still again, certain that she heard 
something. Do the dead ever walk and talk? Was that the mas- 
ter’s genial voice calling her out of the darkness and reproaching 
her for the loss of his child? She began to creep homeward at 
last, round the wall of the house. How far it seemed ! Oh, she 
would never come here any more. Even the light of the pale 

stars, as they came out dimly, obscured by a faint mist, increased 

• 

her agony. For they brought to mind, with a sudden, sharp pain, 
a certain evening when she had been walking about with the little 
Wilfrid in her arms. The child had been laughing up into her 
face and playing with her, making helpless grabs with his dim- 
pled hands at her hair, or clutching the border of her cap. She 
was laughing, too, for she felt particularly gay and light-hearted 
just then. It was before Jim Hollis had begun to exert his baleful 
influence over her. 

When far enough away from the house, she had begun to sing 
a cheerful little song, about a blue ribbon and a merry maid: 

“ My merry, merry maid, she walks so free. 

And she sings so gay, ’neath the chestnut tree. 

My merry, merry maid with the ribbon blue. 

Why, yes, she’s the very, very maid for me.” 

This verse seemed to haunt her now, and she looked over her 
shoulder to be sure that no one was singing it. Just as she had 
finished the first verse, on that evening which now seemed so 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


83 


long ago, she had caught sight of Father Aubril and had stopped 
abashed. But he had smiled pleasantly, crying out : 

Go on, my girl. A light heart and a merry song bespeak 

a good conscience.^'’ 

Then he had stop})ed and signed the forehead of the child 
with the sign of the cross. After which, still looking at the baby 
and with a kind of solemnity he had said : 



Who can tell what will he the future of this little one? The fairest flower 
may he soonest blasted by the storm.’” 


“ Who can tell what will ho tho fntjirc of this little one? 'Pho 
fairest flower mav he soonest blasted hy the storm. Unt, my 
danghtcr he added, fixing his grave, penetrating eyes npon the 
o-irl “ this child’s fntnre, the future of his soul, is put in some 
measure into your hands. Tlio mother is compelled to confide it 
to you very often.' Guard well your trust, for there is much hap- 
piness in a trust well fulfilled.” 

Then he had passed on with a kindly gesture of farewell. 


84 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


This })riest, people said, was a saint, and he had looked so solemn 
then that he had frightened her, even though it was a bright after- 
noon in the early summer time, with the ]\lanor showing through 
the trees gay and eheerful, eatebing the sunshine ii})on its tops. 

And ]iow, now, in this awful darkness, the words of the priest 
frightened her still more, \\bis he a pro])het, and had he, indeed, 
read the future? Row had her trust been fultilled? ^^diere was 
that child who had been conlidud to her care? What would be- 
come of its soul? Its soul? She had never thought of that when 
she had let Jim Hollis take it awa}'. What if Sarah Slater had 
kej)t it and the talk about the nuns had been all foolishness? She 
could scarce reju'ess a shriek as she began to run, pausing half 
fainting, near the familiar kitchen door. She must regain her 
breath. She could not ajpiear before ]Mrs. Brown and the other 
servants all in a flutter,” as she said to herself. But her terror 
was not so easily banished, and she seemed to hear ringing in 
her ears, even above the terrible tones of Sarah Slater’s voice, the 
calm, grave accents of the priest. 

^^Oh, I am afraid of him,’’ she muttered to herself. He 
can read right into one and he knows the future and the past. 
I guess the folks are right that say he’s a saint.” 


THE PILKINGTOE HEIR. 


8o 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE :master and the man. 

Sir, Major Pilkington, 3^0111’ humble servant.’’ 

The gentleman so addressed turned quickl3^ 

^Mt s onl3” Jim Hollis, sir, Tour Honor,’’ repeated the man, 
bowing low before his former employer. 

^'Oh, it’s only Jim Hollis, is it? Then it’s as infernal a 
blackguard as I'm acquainted with,’’ said the Major. 

'' Except yourself, you devil’s limb,” growled Jim, under his 
breath. But he bowed lower than ever, as he said aloud : 

Your Honor’s as merry as ever, and as fond of his jest.” 
Mell, what’s your business with me — and be quick about it. 
I have an appointment,” 

“ It’s only al)out that little matter, sir. I make bold to re- 
mind you that the child’s been gone these three months and — ” 
Pilkino’ton cast a hastv glance about him. 

‘MVhat do vou mean, }^ou ill-conditioned lout, talking out 
loud after this fashion?” 

And he supplemented his remark with an oath which can not 
l)e here set down, for this ]\Iajor added to his other virtues a 
foul and blasphemous tongue. 

Well, 3^11 know what I mean, sir. And I’m thinking of 
getting married.” 


86 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR, 


I pity the nieinber of the female sex that’s about to unite 
herself to you.” 

Jim forced a laugh. 

So 1 thought/’ he went on, if Your Honor could spare me 
a little of that money — ” 

]\Ioney ! ” cried the villain, with another oath. I beg to 
remind you, sir, that I have not yet come into possession of my 
estate, and shall not for months to come — till a certain time has 
elapsed and certain formalities have been complied with. Our 
bargain was the estate first, your claim after.” 

Was it so, sir ? I didn’t understand it that way,” ventured 
Jim, keeping his eyes lowered that the other might not see the 
gleam of hatred in them. 

Oh, didn't you? Well, it’s my belief, Jim, that there’s 
quite a number of things you don’t understand. Your under- 
standing is not 3 '^our strong ])oint.” Then dropping his sneering 
tone for the moment, the Major cried out: But this much must 

penetrate vour thick skull — that I'm not going to be dunned in 
this way.” 

Your Honor! 0 Major Pilkington,” whined Jim, neither 
Tnicy nor T would dream of such a thing.” 

‘Mmcy? Oh, ho! T remember,” cried the Major, with a roar 
of laughter. She’s the wench who stole the child for you. 
W ell, she s worthy of you. You’ll make a precious couple. But 
mind this — if you or she plague me any farther. I’ll expose you 
both.” 

^ our Honor might be mixed up with us in an awkward 
sort of way,” cried Jim, gaining courage from the threat. 

^^You hound!” cried the ^lajor, advancing u])on him. “Do 
you dare threaten me ? ” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


P 


As Jim cowered before him, lie added in a tone cold and cut- 
ting as ice : 

ril add blackmailing to the charge, that’s all.” 

The words and tone chilled Jim. He realized that he had to 
do with a villain of superior mold. 

And furthermore,” said the ^tajor, if you don’t get out 
of here in two minutes I’ll thrash you now into the bargain, and 
it will be a tine piece of evidence for me on the trial, showing 
how an officer and a gentleman treated a wretched blackmailer 
who ventured to make a vile insinuation against him.” 



‘ Bir, Major Pilkington, your humble servant.’’^ 


Jim, bending’ low, removed himself to a sufficiently safe dis- 
tance, but his face was white with passion and he could scarce 
articulate, as the ^Fajor added: Faugh ! you worm, you sicken 

me,” and turning on his heel, he was walking away when Jim 
said, desperately : 

T defy you ! T tell you the evidence is too strong to be got 
rid of in this way. T have put your name in Sarah Slater’s books, 
and — ” 

^Fajor Ihlkington took a flying leap toward him, and there is 


88 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


no doubt that if he had reached him there would have been a very 
strong piece of evidence at tlie trial. Ihii Jim took to his heels/ 
and the Majoi*;, left alone, muttered : 

Sarah Slater on the scent ! There might as well be a beagle. 
I must look sharp and get these law proceedings through. The 
owner of the Pilkington estate will be able to carry matters with 
a high hand. For one thing, I must get out of these infernal 
army togs. I have had enough of soldiering, first with the 
patriots — 

He laughed scornfully. 

And next with the lovalists. Oh, I’m very loval. It will 
be a profound grief to me to sever mv connection with His Maj- 
esty s service and to return to the land of TTncle Sam. But duty, 
the care of an estate, the nccessitv of a few loval men endeavorins^ 
to leaven the mass, tliafs the one. T must vait on His Rx. this 
morning doul>le X it OTight to l>e, if his size were considered/’ 

Major Pilkington. having made a careful toilet, sought and 
obtained an interview with Olinrlcs, Duke of Richmond, acting 
Governor of Canada. That functionary, seated in his chair of 
state, had before him upon a table a quantity of maps and other 
documents. A single gentleman was in attendance. The great 
man received his visitor with marked coldness, so that the air 
in that stately apartment seemed glacial. Xo doubt he had heard 

of the various steps by which the quondam American had at- 
tained his present rank. 

The Duke hogged to he informed what had procured liim the 
honor of a visit from ]\rajor Pilkington. 

lour Grace,” began the ]\rajor, striving to retain his self- 
possession in that icy temperature, - 1 have come upon a most 
painful errand.” 



‘"‘you icissh to rcniun your vommissionf ’ ” 




00 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Indeed, sir! ejaculated tlie Duke. 

To explain my reasons for resigning- jiiy cojiiniission.” 
ddie Duke raised his eyebrows. 

You wish to resign your cominission ? 1 confess that that 
surprises nie.’^ 

The resignation is forced upon me by circumstances over 
which I have no control.^’ 

The Duke, tapping slightly with his fingers on the arm of 
the chair, awaited further explanation. 

^fy cousin, an officer,’' began Dilkington, in the rebel 




armv — 

Tlie American,” suggested the Duke. The Treaty of 
Ghent has been signed.^’ 

Pilkington bit his lip. 

]\Iy cousin, Captain Pilkington, was killed in a mysterious 
manner by a stray shot. 

A de])loral)le alfaii’, sir. I heard of it and deeply regretted 
it, having known Captain Pilkington in a somewhat casual fash- 
ion, hut having followed his career with interest.” 

'The Duke spoke warmly and heartily, presently adding: “ TTe 
was a gallant genthanan of stainless honor and a brave soldier, 
though fighting on the wrong side.” 

Pilkington crimsoned. The innuendo contained in this s]'>eech 
was galling indeed. However, he controlled himself and con- 
tinued : 


^^Tn the second hereavement which has fallen upon the widow, 
in the loss of an only son, the estate devolves ujion me. A bur- 
den, Your Grace, a most cruel burden.” 

The ex^u’ossion u])on the Duk(‘’s face was that of scarcely 
veil(*d incrcdiditv. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


91 


I was about to coiigTatulalo you/^ lie observed, more drily 
than ever. 

Again the color of the villain’s face deepened, but he went 

bravelvon: 

%/ 

“It is far less for my own sake than for that of the widow, 
who finds the care of such an estate too onerous, that I consent 
to abandon the career of arms and to enter into possession. My 
young kinsv'oman implores me to do so without dela}^’’ 

The Duke said no word at all, merely gazing at his visitor. 

“ But Your Grace can imagine with what reluctance I aban- 
don the service of our beloved ^lajesty. ^lay he long live and 
reign.’^ 

The Duke gave a plainly ironical nod of assent. 

“ It cuts me to the heart to lie obliged to dwell once more 
among a people who have dared for the second time to raise their 
r(‘gicidal hand against their liege lord and king.’’ 

’riie warmth was very well assumed indeed, the indignation 
of a loyal suliject just a shade, ])crhaps, oviu-done. 

“A residence in vour own countrv will be, no doubt, some- 
what unpleasant for you, under the circumstances, sir. But as 
to your resignation, it shall be accejited, and I have now the 
honor to wish you good morning.” 

Tie rang. A servant a]i])eared. 

“Attend jUajor I’ilkington to the door,” the Duke said, 
brie fly. 

Pilkington, with a feeling of baffled rage in his heart, and 
hatred against the Duke somewhat resendiling that with which he 
had himself inspired Jim Hollis only that morning, followed the 
servant to the door with hasty strides, fancying as he did so that 
he heard laughter after being shut out from the ducal presence. 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 




CHAPTER XIIT. 


IN WITICII ARTHUR ITLKINGTON PAYS A VISIT TO IIIS KINSWOMAN. 


Major Pilkinuton^ having shaken off the service of His 
Majesty, under less dishonorable circnmstances, however, than 
those under which he had previously renounced allegiance to his 
own country, made u]) his mind to return without delay to Xew 
York. The eff'ects of war were visible there, commerce was still 
depressed, the city, as it seemed to the newly arrived, bearing 
traces of disorder. ' Business men talked of the ruinous taxes and 
deplored the evil results of the long depression in trade. Prop- 
erty holders looked grave and sliook their heads about the de- 
crease in the value of land. Tlie ])oor complained of high prices 
and low wages. There vras grumbling at Congress and complaints 


of the administration. Society had suffered, too, and was just 
beginning to regain something of its former tone and gaiety. 

Old soldiers compared the War of the Revolution to the 
recent Hash in the pan with undisguised contempt; old sailors 
called back the days of John Paul Jones, and of Barry, ignoring 
the really brilliant exploits which had astonished the world. 
Pilkington saw all and heard all, commenting upon everything 
with his customary cynicism. Tic kc])t himself in the background, 
not daring to ])resent himself to his former associates. 

But at length, when he deemed the time propitious, he set 
out one day for a visit to Pilkington Manor and to the widow of 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


93 


liis cousin, lie found lier seated, as usual, on tliG terrace, near 
the orcliard wall, as lie had so often seen her in the olden days. 
The rigidity of hevi’ attitude struck him, and the gloom of the 
widow's dress was a totally unfamiliar element in that atmosphere 
where all had been brightness. At her feet lay Carlo, looking 
up into her face with an expression of canine devotion and mute 
sympathy that added considerably to the pathos of the scene. 



^fary Pilkington’s eyes were fixed upon some far-off point in the 
landscape, and she seemed to be lost in reverie. 

That which most alarmed the wretch who drew near un- 
perceived in all that peaceful scene was the appearance of the 
nurse, Lucy, carrying an infant in her arms. She was apparently 
soothing it, and talking in an undertone that gibberish which is 
supposed to he understood by the infant mind. This particular 
baby lay still, as though it cared very little what was being said 
or in what language. It looked up, blinking seriously at the 


94 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


air above its head, and the midges in the sunshine, as if it were 
wondering what sort of a world this was it had come into. 

An awful thought struck the onlooker. Could the lost child 
have been b}^ any means recovered, and if such should be the 
case, what was his position? He had voluntarily given up that 
rank in the British army which it had cost him so dear to ob- 
tain, and what remained? Disgrace, poverty, misfortunes of all 
kinds. 

Might not Jim Hollis and the girl, Lucy, in a hasty fit of 
revenge after the late interview, have played him this trick? 
Sarah Slater, he knew, would be quite capable of dealing out 
such a trump-card, driving him out of the game. His sensations 
tor a few moments were intolerable, and he was conscious of a 
feeling of such awful rage against the unoffending child that he 
could willingly have killed it then and there. He vowed within 
himself that if this trick had l)cen played upon him he would 
yefin some manner com])ass its destruction. 

But as he looked and pondered thus, shaking as in an ague 
fit, he was struck anew by the widow’s attitude and hy the ex- 
])ression of her face. This was no rejoicing mother, gladdened 
by the return of a son that was lost, and triumphing over the 
downfall of the wicked. No; it was evident that the sight of that 
infant was painful to her, and that she was compelled to avert 
her eyes from it, ever and anon. So argued this shrewd ob- 
server, and upon the strength of that assumption he emerged from 
the shelter of the wall in which he had stood, and presented 
himself before Mrs. Pilkington. The sight of him was very 
evidently a shock to his cousin’s widow. She straightened her- 
self in her chair and replied to his low bow by a slight inclination 
of the head. He made a half offer of his hand, hut Mrs. Pilking- 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


95 


ton appeared not to see it, while Lucy changed color from pale 
to red and from red to pale. For conscience doth make cowards 
of us a 11/^ and she had a fear that this line gentleman might 
have come hither to denounce Jim and her. 

Your servant, madam,” said the visitor to his kinswoman. 

1 have felt it only right to call upon yon and offer my humble 
service. Absence from the country prevented me from doing so 
before.” 


Mrs. Pilkingtoh merely bowed. 

You may have heard that 1 was al)road for a short time, hav- 
ing ol)tained leave from my regiment, then stationed in Canada.” 
i\Frs. Pilkington was amazed at the effrontery with which he 
made this statement, referring thus to a matter which was held 
to be disgraceful by all their circle. Her fair face flushed, and 
she could scarcely control herself sufficiently to reply. 

I believe I heard something of the kind.” 

On my return to Canada,” said the ex-I\[ajor, coolly, these 
unfortunate hostilities between the men of the same race, who 
should be brothers, having come to an end, I thought it my duty 
to resign my commission in the British service. And this I did, 
my dear cousin, my dear ^Fary — ” 

ITe bent forward as ]\Frs. Pilkington drew back in disgust at 
his audacity, and the freedom. with which he had used her name. 

This I did,” he continued, ^^that I might be entirely at your 
command in settling the unhappy complications which have arisen 
from your twofold loss.” 

A look of intense pnin crossed the widow’s face at this blunt 
reference to tlie bereavement which she held sacred. But her 
tone was as repellent as she could make it when she answered ; 

Your aid, sir, will be totally unnecessary. The solicitors 


06 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


ai“c tlie best agents in such matters, and I have, moreover, as- 
surances of the speedy return of my uncle, ]\Ir, Graystone — my 
only relative.’’ 

She emphasized the word, but the man before her was not to 
be touched by such ])uny shafts. 

]\lrs. Pilkington — IMary,” he said, ‘Svhy this forniartone? 
I am come to serve vour best interests, to do all that a brother 
midit. Whv treat in such a manner the onlv near kinsman of 
your late husband, and one who held him so dear? Besides, it is 
necessary tb.at we should go over this matter together. There 
is so much that had better be said in private, and that is scarcely 
appro})riate for the ears of even so faithful a domestic as Lucy.” 
Tie gave an ironical glance at the nurse, whom it pleased him 
to feel that he was alarming hv his mvsterious manner. Luev 
reddeiK'd under the glance and felt “ all of a tremble,’’ as she 
afterward said to Jim, ^Sind as if she must drop the brat she 
was holding.” 

Mrs. Pilkington rose. 

o 

There are seats over yonder,” she said, indifferently, if yon 
really feel convinced that a husiness interview between ns is advis- 
able. I confess that I consider it both painfnl and unnecessary.” 
She turned to Tmcy. 

^Mveep the little creature out here in the fresh air as long 
as possible.” 

For she had no mind to he left quite alone with this mam 
whom she both feared and distrusted. 

And hy the way.” she added, turning hack, ^Miave Wills 
send the footman to the Pines to inquire how is the poor mother.” 
And she remarked to Arthur Pilkington as she walked awav 
a few paces in his company: 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


97 


My neighbor, Mrs. Wilson, is dying ; so we have assumed 
here the care of her child.^^ 

“ As ever, thoughtful for others,^^ said the ex-Major, with a 
bow which he thought most fascinating. 


98 


THE riLKlEUTON HEIR. 


CIlArTER XIV. 

IN WHICH ARTHUR PILKINGTON HAS AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE. 

At some little distance from the place where Mrs. Pilkington 
had been sitting, and where Lucy still walked with the infant, 
seats were provided under the shadow of the trees. ^Irs. Pilking- 
ton, having sat down upon one of these, motioned her visitor to 
one opposite. He retreated thither with visible mortification. 
She was treating him as she might have treated a menial who 
had offended her. But this woman, he thought, had always had 
power to make him feel small and mean. Even in the days when 
she was the beautiful Mary Clinton, and a mere school girl, she 
had flouted his pretensions when he had ventured to enter the lists 
with his cousin, and had looked him through and through with 
those clear, brown eyes of hers, so quick to detect falsehood, so 
pitiless to meanness. 

He thought of all this as he sat where he had been bidden, 
with ^lary Clinton erect before him, her hand resting on the 
head of the dog, who had followed her and stood protecting!}^ be- 
side her. He felt that there was a change in this woman. To any 
one but himself he felt sure that she would have been much softer 
and gentler than of old. Sorrow had uplifted her, touching her 
face, and adding attraction to her once resplendent beauty. It 
had lent a sweetness to the corners of the mouth, it had given 
depths to once laughing eyes. He did not know as yet how this 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR, 


9‘J 

change had been felt throughout the country. Always kind and 
generous to the i)oor, Mrs. Ihlkington was now their good angel. 
Father Aubril rejoiced, while he marveled at the wonders which 
had been wrought spiritually and mentally. 

The conversation began with a conventional civility at first. 
Mrs. I’ilkington, who disliked giving pain, and had read the 
man’s annoyance in his face, tried to put some slight tinge of 
cordiality into her voice and manner, while he, on his part, exerted 
himself to appear at his best. But there was so much at stake, 
and his nerves were so strained with the long suspense, that his 
natural brutality could not be kept long in cheek. Besides, she 
had angered him, and he was determined that she should pay for 
it, even now before he left her. 

Your child, little Wilfrid, has now been gone some six 
months, I believe. I was absent at the time of that unfortunate 
affair, but I am told it took place very shortly after your hus- 
band's death. 

Every word struck Mrs. Pilkington as the thrust of a dagger. 
But she was not going to allow this man to see her weakness. 
She bent her head. 

AYiir information is correct,’^ she observed, ^^only that it 
took place at the very time of my husband’s death.” 

Indeed ! How shocking! How very painful,” cried the 
visitor. I marvel yon could have borne up so well.” 

We can bear a great deal more than we think for, Mr. Pilk- 
ington,” she said. Sorrow does not kill.” 

How to make a very frank and brutal statement of fact,’’ 
said Arthur Pilkington, with a business-like air, which suited ill 
his ordinary swagger. This deplorable loss makes me, without 
offense, the heir-at-law to the Pilkington estates.” 

L.cf C. 


100 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


It was, indeed, a brutal statement, but undeniably true. 

^^You are tlie heir-at-law in the event of my son's death,” 
said Mrs. Pilkington, ‘Svhich my solicitors are of opinion can 
not be proved.” 

I can only repeat, madam,” he said, doggedly, that I 
am the heir-at-law, and as such have been, you will admit, most 
forbearing.” ^ 

Mrs. Pilkington’s indignation rose high. 

“ May I ask, sir,” she said, why you so confidently assume 
that my child, his father's heir, is dead ? ” 

There was something piercing in the glance with which these 
words were uttered, and for a moment it staggered. him. He an- 
swered hastily : 

assume nothing. The facts to an unprejudiced mind 
would point in that direction.” 

“ I would be infinitely obliged, sir, if you would detail these 
facts as thev are known to you.” 

“ Known to me ? ” he cried, arising from his seat with a 
threatening gesture. Have a care, madam, or you may be 
called upon to explain these insinuations.” 

The calm eyes were upon him, the eyes of ^lary Clinton, the 
deeper, stronger eyes of the widowed IMrs. Pilkington. For the 
first time he faneied that there was suspicion in them, and he 
quailed before their quiet power. 

^‘^You are very unnecessarily exciting yourself,” said Mrs. 
Pilkington, and wasting your throats on one who has no fear 
of them.” 

Overcome by her manner, he sat down with a muttered apology. 

As no facts whatever with regard to the disappearance 
of my son have reached me,” continued Mrs. Pilkington, I 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


101 


should be glad, indeed, to hear them, if you are in possession of 
any/^ 

She strove to speak in the same cold tone as heretofore, but 
there was a warm and vibrant note of pain in her voice as she 
thus referred to this direst of calamities. 

The wretch before her, having recovered his self-possession, 
resumed : 

“ Of course I mean such facts as were made publie.^^ 

But none have been made public,^’ cried Mrs. Pilkington, 
none are known to any of us.^^ 



‘ Do you dare/ he cried, ‘accuse me?*** 


*^^011, come,” said the ex-^fajor, good-humoredly; one fact, 
at least, was known — that the child disappeared while you were 
ill. Another, that all efforts of the police have failed to discover 
any trace of his existence after six months’ diligent search.” 
'^The efforts of the police are still concentrated upon one 
point — the motive for such a crime.” 

^frs. Pilkington spoke very calmly; her eyes were full upon 
the face of the man before her, and it cost him a tremendous effort 
to preserve his coolness. N^or was he entirely successful. 

The motive ? ” he stammered. 



102 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Yes — for such a crime as }'ou suggest/’ said Mrs. Pilkington^ 


not, to assign a motive? Surely you will admit it could not be 
for the mere pleasure of such an act.’^ 

Mrs. Pilkington spoke in the low, unimpassioned voice that 
seldom changed its cadence. Her hearer was visibly moved and 
alarmed. / 


That is why 1 still hope that the child was stolen for the 
sake of gain. The vigilance of the police has made these mis- 
creants fear to come forward and claim a reward.^’ 

She stopped and her visitor was still silent. Mrs. Pilkington, 
leaning slightly forward, said suddenly : 

Unless, indeed, Mr. Pilkington, you have some private in- 
formation to give me, or can assign a more likely motive for kill- 
ing the Pilkington heir.’^ 

He started to his feet, advancing toward her threateningly. 

Do you dare/’ he cried, accuse me? ” 

He Avas beside himself with rage. The ungovernable passion 
Avhich had caused him to commit so many violent acts in the course 
of his life urged him noAV to lose sight of all discretion. For a 
moment the hra\n heart of Mary Pilkington quailed within her 
as she looked at his distorted countenance and heheld his upraised 
hnnd. AVas he about to murder her and so destroy the last ob- 
stacle to his possession of the property? But she spoke fearlessly : 
YTo has accused you ? Ts it conscience, Arthur Pilkington ? ” 
He made a hurried step or tAAn nearer to wUere she sat, and 
it seemed as if that upraised arm must descend and fell her 
slight figure to the earth. But in a second he was doAvn, wnth 
Carlo’s teeth in his throat. He might have been warned by tbe 
menacing growls AAUich the animal had been giving, but in his 




“In a second he teas down, with Carlo’s teeth in his throat.” 


104 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


excitement lie had overlooked him altogether. Mrs. Pilkington 
cried aloud for help, and Lucy came running to the spot with 
one of the grooms whom she had summoned, and who now rushed 
upon Carlo with the butt end of a whip. 

It was no easy task to make the dog relinquish his prey, and 
the efforts of Mrs. Pilkington herself, together with her soothing 
voice, had more to do with his^ pacification than the groom’s 
blows. 

As for the ex-loyalist of His Britannic ^lajesty’s forces, he 
picked himself up as best he might, swearing that he would have 
a warrant for the shooting of the dog, and declaring that this 
attack upon his life had been premeditated in order to get rid 
of the heir-at-law. 

I take these servants to witness the fact,” he cried furiously 
to Mrs. Pilkington, who vouchsafed him no reply. 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


105 


CHAPTER XV. 

IN WHICH ARTHUR PILKINGTON IS MADE PRISONER. 

Though Arthur Pilkington had refused the offer of a car- 
riage, which the mistress of the Manor had sent a groom to make, 

he felt himself 
quite unable to 
walk. So that hav- 
ing made his way 

to The Merry 

%/ 

Dogs,’^ he hired a 
coach there which 
should convey him 
to the city. 

As he was being 

driven down the Ivingshridge Road, just at the j^oint where- it 
intersected with Bloomingdale, familiarly known as Myers’ Cor- 
ner, the carriage came to a standstill. A man in a great coat 
was asking some trivial question of the driver, taking at the 
same time careful note of the occupant of the carriage. This, 
indeed, Arthur Pilkington facilitated by thrusting out his head 
to swear at the Jehu, asking him at what hour of the night he 
meant to get him to Doctor Wallace’s surgery. The man stepped 
aside, so that Pilkington did not observe that he jumped into a 
fly which stood in waiting and drove rapidly off, taking a short 
cut cityward. 



A man in a great coat was asking some trivial 
question of the driver.’^ 




lOG 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Now, as Doctor Wallace lived on Cdiristoplier Street, Green- 
wich village, some two miles outside of the actual New York, 
which scarce ascended above the Lispeuard Salt Meadows, the 
wounded man had quite a long drive before him. Every once in 
a while he put forth his head to urge on the driver, usually in 
language more forcible than polite. At such times the man would 
whip up his horses and the lumbering vehicle would go on at a 
fair rate of speed. But very soon the old jog-trot was resumed, 
and Arthur Pilkington had no other resource than patience. He 
was landed at last at the physician’s door, dismissing the coach. 
Doctor Wallace, having examined the wound made by the dog, 
declared that it was in nowise serious, the animal having been 
in a healthy condition. He applied some simple dressing, bade his 
patient keep it covered, and took leave of him, with some jesting 
allusion to the fine gentlemen who would keep their hounds. 

As Pilkington came out of the doctor’s house and walked 
rapidly toward his own lodgings, he had to pass the carriage arch- 
way at the rear of Mr. Pivington’s house. Hard bv was a small 
edifice, which might have been a porter’s lodge or the coachman s 
dwelling. It seemed to Arthur Pilkington that a man stood in 
the shadow of this doorway, the outlines of whom seemed vaguely 
familiar. But as the individual was bareheaded, the ex-Major 
presumed that it Avas the coachman himself taking the air. Aftor 
a careless glance in that direction he would have passed on, when 
suddenly he Avas confronted by three other men in top-coats and 
high hats. In one of these he thought he recognized the man 
Avho had conversed Avith his driver on the Bloomingdale Boad. It 
also seemed to him that be distinctly heard a voice from Avithin 
the doorAvay: 

That’s him ! That’s the Avolf in sheep’s clothing.” 


(( mi 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


107 


No other word was spoken, but two of the men placed them- 
selves one on each side of the heir-at-law and began to hurry 
liim on at a rapid pace, the third man leading the way. Again 
Pilkington fancied that he heard a chuckle from the door- 
v;ay, and this aroused him to some attempt at resistance. He 
stopped, and with a vigorous effort to free himself from the de- 
taining hand upon each shoulder, demanded the meaning of 
this outrage. None of the three men answered. Their policy 



That’s him! That’s the wolf in sheep’s elothing ! ’ ” 


seemed to be a determined silence. Tightening their grasp, they 
hastened on the more. Pilkington, who was no coward, began 
to offer a desperate opposition to their farther progress, when the 
leader of the party, speaking at last, said in a low tone : 

You’d best come quietly. No harm will be done you if you 
don’t resist. But if you do — ” 

The man significantly showed a pistol. 



108 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


“ Besides/^ he continued, it’s the best of your play not to 
make tiiis thing too public, and we’re all well armed.” 

'The man relapsed into silence. Bilkington saw that resistance 
was useless, and was moreover impressed by the hint which the 
man had thrown out. If these fellows were constables, what was 
the charge? Could it be thaf-Mrs. Bilkington or Sarah Slater or 

I 

Jim Hollis had laid information to secure his arrest? Or was 

( 

it merely for debt? Some impatient creditor, who had need of 
his money, or feared for his security ? 

In any case, as they were still to all intents and purposes in 
the country, for the city proper did not by any means extend so 
far, he was entirely in these men’s power. And even should the 
watch appear, Bilkington would not have felt safe in attracting 
attention to himself till he better understood his situation. 

In any event his reflections were far from pleasant, and he 
inwardly raged and fumed as he was hurried along under the 
starlight, which was clear and cold. For there was a touch of 
frost in the air and the wind from the East River was sharp and 
stinging. 


He was hurried along so fast through that sparsely settled dis- 
trict that he could scarcely observe whither they were going. Once 
he thought he recognized the dwelling of Colonel Aaron Burr on 
Richmond Hill, and' that the street down which they were hurrv- 
ing was Charlton. He was only certain of his whereabouts when 
his captors stood still for an instant to take breath at a plank 
stretched over a ditch. 

He knew now in what vicinity he was. This ditch had been 
cut through the Lispenard Salt Meadows and the plank had been 
thrown across for the convenience of those who went from the 
business resorts to the rural district just left behind. After this 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


109 


the men made a sudden turn, following a path which led east- 
ward till they reached a spot known as the Collect,’’ and which 
was, in point of fact, a rubbish heap, somewhere in the neighbor- 
hood of Canal Street, Xew York. It was very badly lighted, 
lamps being few and far between, so that Arthur Pilkington could 
scarcely see the big frame house into which he was hurried. 

-The house was dark and silent, but his captors evidently knew 
their way, and it was not until they had reached the head of a 
flight of steps that they struck a light. Pilkington was then 
forced downward, though he made another attempt at resistance, 
with less prospect of success than ever. He was thrust into a 
species of outhouse, with hard bricked door, probably used as a 
cellar, and the door was instantly locked. There was scarcely a 
gleam of light, but he felt a slight current of air coming, as he 
afterward discovered, from a cou])le of gratings. He heard the 
heavy tread of his captors crossing the floor of the house and 
going upstairs again. After that there was silence. 

Page as the captive might, he could get no response from the 
silent walls around him. He beat on the door with frantic fists. 
Only a dull echo came back to him. He paced the floor with 
furious steps, only to come in sharp contact with a stone wall, 
for his prison was very small. What could it mean? One thing 
came clear as a flash to his mystified brain: He was not in the 
clutches of the law. This was not a jail nor any official place of 
captivity. 

Who, then, had seized upon him? Yot his kinswoman, of 
that he felt certain. Villain as he was, he knew her high char- 
acter too well to admit of such a possibility. He felt that if she 
proceeded against him at all, it would be in the regular way and 
in a court of justice. 


110 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


It must, then, be Sarah Slater! Without her Jim Hollis and 
Lucy would be powerless. He knew they were a very cheap kind 
of villains and would not venture upon so audacious a stej). Was 
she aetiiig in concert with those other two or independently of 
t^iem? He knew a good deal about the woman. She was a 
money-lender, a receiver of stolen goods, and the confederate of 
thieves. He knew that she would stop at nothing to gain an 
end she had in view, and his rage redoul)led at the thought of 
how easily he had been trapped. If he had only stayed in Can- 
ada till there had been some prospect of a settlement ! 

P)ut I'll be even with you yet, Sarah Slater,’' he cried, clench- 
ing his fists. “ You may lay heavy odds on that.” 

He began to feel about to see if there were any possibility of 


escape, though he was convinced that the astute Sarah would 
never have allowed her myrmidons to put him in any place from 
which there was the remotest chance of his making an exit. No ; 
ihe walls were of stone, the floor of brick, and the gratings so 
close that not a mouse could have passed through them. It was 
evident that he must stay here and await Sarah’s pleasure. In 
his researches he came upon a bench or shelf and sank down in 
utter weariness. It was an exasperating situation, and in the 
gloom and darkness he began to review his past life. His boy- 
hood, when he used to come from college to spend his holidays 
with the Pilkingtons, his uncle, and aunt, then living. His 
uncle had always given him a sovereign and he had ridden one 
of Harry’s ponies and roamed with him through the country 
lanes. Plis }''oung manhood came before him, when he went 
to summer festivals at the Belvedere Club House and saw 
^fary Clinton dancing with her future husband. Often he had 
gone out upon the gallery, looking down upon the wide ex- 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Ill 


pause of the East Eiver all about, fuiiiing with rage at his 
Cousin Harry. 

Then his entrance into the American army, and his exit 
thence, after many questionable transactions. That part of his 
life he did not care to dwell upon overmuch. Thenceforth he 
was eligible no more, and he knew it, for the Belvedere Club or 
for any private drawing-room. lie was a pariah and an outcast, 
though the final exploits which had won him his rank in the 
British army were not suspected. He was a pariah and an outcast 
in his native land, and, despite his commission, he had met with 
little better fortune in Canada. 

Socially he had been an exile there as well, for a part of his 
story had gotten out, so that not only his comrades-in-arms, but 
citizens of repute shunned him. But one chance remained, the 
Ifilkington estate. If he procured that, he fancied he would be 
in a position to defy fate. For surely, he would then regain his 
lost ground, and, failing that, he could raise money and go abroad. 

Therefore, he must make terms with this atrocious Sarah 
Slater. He must have her for an ally, not an enemy, and he 
felt that he had made a mistake in not going to her direct instead 
of allowing Jim Hollis to negotiate for him. Xo doubt she would 
visit him in this prison-house, where an alliance, offensive and 
defensive, might be entered into. He would know how to manage 
her if only he had speech with her. 

Worn out, he fell asleep, and dreamed that he was again 
being hurried through the streets with a hand on each of his 
shoulders, the hand of a silent man, and preceded l)y a third, 
who was equally reticent. 


112 


TRhi FILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

AT THE FARM OF YVES KERONAO. 

It was in a small and isolated village on the Canadian fron- 
tier that a very miserable lad lay in the long grass by the road- 
side, weeping as if his very heart would break. And as he la}'’ 
and as he sobbed, a tiny dog j)ut its head out of the basket which 
the boy had set down in utter discouragement, and looked with 
canine sympathy at its companion. It seemed to say, almost as 
2 )lainly as if it had made use of human speech : 

Is it you, my friend, and why do you give way to discour- 
agement ? 

For it was far more accustomed to see this playfellow bound- 
ing through the grasses and plucking the flowers or chasing the 
butterflies, with a laugh upon his lips or a merry whistle. For 
Pierrette, as the lad was called, was in general well treated, 
though the people with whom he lived were rough folk enough, 
lie had been ado]fled by Yves Keronac, a small farmer of Brit- 
tan}^, some time before that worthy had decided to emigrate to 
the new world, where he had now been living full seven years at 
least. Yves Keronac was a blunt, plain-spoken man, with a heavy 
hand which did not very often strike, though Pierrette had felt 
it occasionally, and a string 6i rough words on his tongue when 
provoked. His wife was a good, easy-going woman, who did not 
trouble herself very much about the boy, though she was fond 





114 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


of him in her own way and prond, as he grew older, of his good 
looks. 

Altogether Pierrette might have fared much worse. For these 
people gave him enough to eat, and clothed him comfortably and 
made him go to church and attend to his religious duties. Noth- 
ing of evil was to he learned in the Keronac house, humble as 
it was. So that, generally s])eaking, Pierrette was not unhappy. 
Sometimes it came home to him that he was an or])han and a 
foundling, with no one to care for him in the wide world. And 
then he felt downcast. 

But there were bright, sunshiny days, when he was hel{)ing 
^ladanie Keronac to pick apples in the little orchard or aiding 
her husband at the plow, when life seemed very happy and the 
boy had not much left to desire. He loved the autumn, when he 
could go a-nutting, and the early summer, when the berries were 
in season. He was allowed to pick them, not only for the use 
of their own little household, but to sell at the houses of the 
wealthier people or at the hotel, which was some distance away. 
On such occasions Madame Keronac usually gave him a penny 
or two for himself, which he could spend as he chose, or hoard 
away for that mysterious future to which every lad looks for- 
ward. 

But on this particular day Pierrette was in disgrace, and 
part of his grief Avas on account of the ATrA' dog Avhich he Avas 
carrying, AAuth its brother, in that basket. On the previous day 
tAA^o cronies of Ya^os Keronac had come in, and he invited them 
to partake of some fresh milk, Avhich he had bade Pierrette seek 
in the dairy. Pierrette, Avhoin, it must he OAvned, Avas giddy at 
times, turned his head as he came in at the threshold to say 
something to his friends, the puppies, Avho Avere Avithout. In so 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


115 


doing, as ill-luck would have it, he stumbled, and the bowl fell 
in a hundred |)ieces on the floor. 

Yves Keronac cast a look at the boy which convinced him 
that he should presently feel the weight of that heavy hand, 
whereas the two who sat at table began to jest at the misfortune, 
saying : 

Ila, ha ! Pierrette, you will catch it this time, and no mis- 
take.” 

No,” said M. Iveronac, slowly, he won't catch it this 
time, but instead he shall put both the dogs in a basket and take 
them this very day to the English lady who has been long want- 
ing to buy them. For they help this lad to idle his time, and 
have just caused this misfortune. But now, Pierrette, quick, to 
fetch more milk, and no accidents this time.'’ 

The hot tears were chasing each other down the hoy's face, 
so that he could hardly see where he was going, and feared lest 
he should drop the milk again. 

Cease that childish blubbering,” said the farmer, as he saw 
the lad’s tear-stained face, lest you have better cause for it.” 
Pierrette tried to keep back the tears, but it was hard when 
he thought that he was about to lose his playmates, his only 
friends. 

Early the next morning indeed, under madame’s careful 
supervision, the hoy was forced to put his dogs into a basket and 
start for the place of sale. He was to leave the dogs and let the 
lady come over to make her own terms with j\f. Keronac; for 
she was one of his l)est customers for farm produce, and he 
wanted to oblige her. 


Il6 


THE PILKIIJQTON HEIR. 


CHArTER XVII. 

IN WHICH PIERRETTE IS PUNISHED. 

But Pierrette had not gone far when he cast himself down by 
the roadside in a futile paroxysm of weeping. And as he lay 
he had formed the resolution to brave the farmer’s anger and 
carry the dogs back to the farm. Anything was better than to 
lose them. He planned it all out. He would hide them away in 
an unused barn where he could himself feed them. Then he 
would work very hard and try to please the farmer, and when his 
anger had died out he would confess all and beg permission to 
keep his pets. 

It chanced, as Pierrette had hoped, that for the first couple 
of days A^ves Keronac was taken up with other matters, and 
madame was engaged in her favorite occupation of house-clean- 
ing. So that the boy went unquestioned. But on the third day, 
just as they were taking their early breakfast, at five o’clock, the 
farmer said to his wife: 

It is strange that that lady has never come to pay for the 
dogs.” 

Most strange,” the wife had replied, while Pierrette grew 
crimson, and the milk he was drinking nearly choked him. 

“ What did she say ? ” asked the farmer, turning abruptly 
upon the boy. 

Yes, tell us, Pierrette,” echoed Madame Keronac, with some 
curiosity. 


THE PILEINGTON HEIR. 


117 


1 — I (lid not see her/” stammered Pierrette. 

You did not see her ? Who, then, took the dogs from you ? ” 
cried Yves, angrily. 

Ther(i was a pause, then Pierrette answered bravely, 

Yo one.” 

M. Keronac raised his hand. 

Gently, gently, my friend,” said the farmePs wife, who hated 
violence. 

What sort of work is this ? ” cried M. Keronac, stamping 
on the ground, and bringing down his hand on the table so that 
the crockery danced. 

Gently, gently,” repeated the farmer’s wife, but her husband 
only made a gesture of impatience, and repeated the inquiry. 

Did you turn them loose on the grounds ? ” 

Yo, sir,” said Pierrette. 

What, then ? ” cried the farmer, rising, and approaching the 
boy’s chair. Pierrette trembled violently. He was very much 
afraid of the farmer when he was angry. 

Tell me this instant what you did with the dogs, and take 
that to loosen }'our tongue,” cried Yves Keronac, dealing the poor 
lad a sound cuff. 

My friend,” said madame, deprecatingly, holding back the 
avenging arm, remember he is fatherless.” 

Keronac did not repeat the blow, and the boy, who was truth- 
ful, gathered up his courage. 

"" I didn’t take them to the lady’s house at all,” he blurted out. 

"‘^And vou dare to sit there and tell me that you disobeyed 
me ? ” cried the farmer. 

0, sir, I couldn’t, couldn’t part with them,” cried Pierrette, 
beginning to sob. T’d rather you’d do anything to me rather 


118 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


than send them away. So I thought I’d come l)ack and beg you 
to let me keep tliem. Only, when 1 got here, 1 was afraid.'^ 

And well might you be,” cried the farmer, lie was terribly 
angry and shook tlie boy by the shoulder. “ Tell me where you 
have put them.” 

In the old barn,” sobbed Pierrette. 

The farmer turned away without a word and strode off toward 
the barn, Iherrette running after him. But the man got there 
first and presently emerged, holding a puppy in each hand. 

^^Now,” said he, “to the stream, and in they go. I’ll have 
no more of this folly. No whining puppies to make you waste 
your time and disobey me ! ” 

Pierrette gave a great cry. 

“ 0, sir,” he said, falling upon his knees and putting up his 
hands in sup])lication, “ I’ll really take them to the English lady’s 
this time if only you’ll spare their lives.” 

The farmer was inexorable. He marched on toward the stream, 
a tributary of one of the great northern rivers, with the dogs 
howling and kicking in each hand. Arrived at the edge of the 
water, he threw them as far as he could Teach into the middle of 
the current. After which he drove Pierrette home, cuffing him 
at intervals to make him stop crying, and bidding him get to his 
work as quickly as possible. 

It was on that very evening, near sunset, that a pedler woman, 
all the way from New A^ork, stopped at the farm. ^ladame Tvero- 
nac bought a few articles, from the cart and invited the pedler to 
remain overnight, according to the hospitable custom of her race. 
Molly Heegan accepted the invitation, and by this providential 
circumstance found the key to what had been so long a mystery. 
For the years had gone by at Pilkington Manor with alternate 


THE PI L KINGTON HEIR. 


119 


gloams of hope or intervals of blank despair. Father Christian 
had written to his brother, but it chanced that Father Aubril had 
been away on Jiiissionary work among the Indians; for priests 



of the countiw, so that it was a long time before he received the 
letter. 

He had replied at once, but communication was slow, and 



•‘Pierrette gave a great cry. ‘ 0, sir/ he said, falliitg agon his knees, ‘Til 

really take them this time,’” 


Father Christian had to report when he wrote next that, if the 
child had been in reality the l^ilkington heir, it had been adopted 
by Breton folk, who had afterward emigrated to America. The 
Sisters would make every effort to discover the farmer's present 
whereabouts, but it seemed difficult. Now Mrs. Pilkington, whose 
liope was revived by Father Christian’s letter, was convinced that 
sooner or later the child would l)e found. Efforts had been made 


1^0 


THE PILKlNGTON HEIR. 


to trace him, but in vain. The Keronacs lived obscurely, and had 
seen no advertisements, met with no detectives. 

Father Aubril had urged Molly to keep forever on the alert. 
Her wandering life might enable her to discover what the shrewd- 
est detectives had hitherto failed to do. Now Molly, installed in 
the farm-house kitchen, took note of the fair and delicate features 
and coloring of Iherrette, so unlike his parents, and something 
in the outline of his face seemed vaguelv familiar. She heard 
the story of tlie dogs, too, and was able to give the boy some con- 
solation. That afternoon, as she drove along by the bank of the 
little river, she had observed two dogs endeavoring to scramble 
up the river bank, and had been much amused at their appearance 
and efforts. Indeed, her suggestion that they might prove to he 
Pierrette’s two friends was correct, for later, when the boy went 
out to the byre to see that all was secure, he found the two dogs 
scratching at the door. They gave him a tumultuous welcome, 
which he returned by kneeling down and embracing the faithful 
beasts, though their coats were still wet, and letting his tears 
fall upon their rough hair. 

Partly at the request of the pleasant guest, who gave ]\[adame 
Keronac a very nice present from among her wares as a return 
for her hospitality, and partly because, his anger over, the farmer 
felt sorry for Pierrette, the dogs were allowed to remain, on con- 
dition that there should he no more idling. 

,Tlien when Pierrette, forgetting his late grief, went to bed 
as happy as a lark, IMolly questioned her hostess about the lad 
and drew his story from her. To IMolly’s amazement this story 
tallied in almost every particular with that of the child whom 
they had so long thought dead. ]\radame Iveronac knew nothing 
of his ])arentage, hut the Sisters, she said, had believed him to 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


121 


be of gentle birth. M. Keroiiac had made this an objection to 
taking the child, lest it shonld prevent him later on from being 
useful for work. But she herself had been pleased with his 
chestnut hair and blue eyes, and had prevailed upon her husband 
to chose him and no other. Furthermore, she declared that one 
of the Sisters believed him to be an American, but was rather 
laughed at for the conjecture. ]\rolly Deegan’s heart leaped 
within her as she listened. Little doubt remained that she had 
happened upon the very people with whom had dwelt all these 
vears the Pilkin^^ton heir. 

Surely the finger of God is here,’’ she said to herself. “ He 
brought me to this place, praise be to His holy name.’’ 

She did not, however, think it wise to say anything to the 
Keronacs. She would make known her discovery to the priest and 
let him act. She hurried away soon after dawn, having first dis- 
played her wares to gladden the heart of Pierrette. She brought 
forth combs, brushes, pins, needles, Indian baskets and bead-work, 
tiny mirrors in brass frames, dolls, bright-colored pictures, re- 
ligious and otherwise, strings of beads, dress goods, tins, and 
groceries. To Pierrette that cart and its contents were marvel- 
ous. He was delighted, moreover, when Molly, by the farmer’s 
permission, took him for a drive a piece of the road, with the 
resuscitated dogs barking and leaping on each side, joyous and 
exultant, as if they knew they had been saved from a cruel death. 
They forgave the farmer, too, and whined- at his feet and licked 
his hand as he came out to see the party off, with many a good-by 
to the cheery pcdler, who had amused them with many tales of 
her life and adventures. Both husband and wife declared that 
it was as good as a book to hear her talk. 

IMerrette could not understand why, as they drove, the woman 


122 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


looked at him so long and earnestly, muttering : Well, well ! To 

think of it ! And again, Why, hedl be the very moral of his 
father when he’s twenty years of age. llis eyes and his hair are 
proof enough for me.” 

^lolly was so interestc'd in lier discovery, and so eager to give 
joy to the poor mother, that she turned her cart homeward, for- 
saking the route she had laid out for herself. 

But the ways of God are wonderful ! ” cried Father Aubril 
when he heard ]\Iolly’s news. How He confounds the plans of 
the wicked ! ” 

It was one of the most joyful moments in the life of that good 
priest, who had known so many painful ones in the exercise of 
his sublime vocation. Not that he had ever regretted that fair 
morning long ago in Paris when he had given up his life to the 
service of God, his feet upon the mountain-top, preaching 
peace.” ^leanwhile Pierrette remained at the farm. 


THE PILKINOTOE’ HEIR. 


123 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

IN WHICH YVES KERONAC VISITS THE MANOR. 

Mrs. Pilkington had kept with her all these years the child 
of her neighbor who had died, and the self-same infant whose 
appearance upon the lawn had so alarmed her wicked kinsman. 

It was upon a day of early April, when the trees were just bud- 
ding and the leaves coming out a tender green, that Mildred 
stood with her adopted mother, awaiting an arrival which was of 
interest to both. For this child had identified herself in a special 
manner with the joys and sorrows of her kind protectress. 

Mrs. Pilkington was in a fever of suspense. iMolly had un- 
dertaken to explain the situation to the farmer and bring him 
back with her in her cart. At last there was the sound of wheels 
in the avenue below, and IVIolly deposited at the ste])s leading to 
the terrace a man in the garh of a Breton ])easant. Molly did not 
wait for the prospective interview : she rattled away again in her 
cart, leaving the astonished peasant to gaze with wonder-stricken 
eyes at the beauties of the place. IVIildred, at Mrs. Pilkington’s 
suggestion, had also retired to the house and sent Lucy to her 
mistress. It was singular that this girl had contrived to retain 
lier place in her mistress’ esteem. Mrs. Pilkington even felt a 
kind of affection for her, liolding her to be a link with the past. 
For was it not she who had cared for the lost Wilfrid and held 
him oftenest in her arms? Some years before Lucy had married 


124 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Jim Hollis, but their life had been one of misery. He had nev^er 
succeeded in getting much from Arthur Pilkington, who had 
indeed, spent considerable in the effort to establish his claim 
upon the estate. Jim Hollis would never work, living always 
upon the hope of plucking his patron and former master. 

So it was that Lucy had begged Mrs. Pilkington to take her 
back, while Jim drifted about and lived upon his wits. It was 
always understood between the precious pair that, if ever they 
came into their own, out of which that villain of a fine gentleman 
was keeping them, they should carry out their plan of setting up 
an inn. 

Sarah Slater, as shall presently be seen, had taken hold of 
the matter earnestly, but neither Jim nor Lucy had ever profited 
much by their connection with her. On the contrary, she had 
contrived to obtain more or less from both of them and kept 
them in terrified submission to herself. She fed them, as she did 
Arthur Pilkington, with false hopes, and instructed Lucy to lose 
no opportunity of collecting information at the Manor. 

So Mrs. Pilkington unconsciously lent herself to the evil 
designs of all these persons by permitting her trusted Lucy to 
hear everv word of her interview with Farmer Keronac. Mrs. 

c/ 

Pilkington received the man very graciously, so that he was 
charmed with the great lady from the first. Bidding him be 
seated, she questioned him closely as to the orphan he had adopted. 
Her own emotion almost overpowered her at times, and her color 
came and went as the blood seemed to flow back and forth from 
her heart. All things in the story seemed to point to the identity 
of the child with her lost Wilfrid. But there was one mark by 
which she could most certainly identify him, a scar upon the back 
of Ids neck, where he had been allowed to fall in babyhood. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


125 


You remember, Lucy?’’ asked Mrs. Pilkiugton. 

Yes, ma’am. It was my fault, too, ma’am. I left him just 
an instant on the side of the bed and he fell, striking his neck 
against the corner of a stool. It sickens me yet, ma’am, when I 
think of how I felt as I seen the blood flowing.” 

She said at the same time, within herself : 

I remember well what a fuss they made about that scratch ; 



“ Mildred stood with her adopted mother, awaiting an arrival which was of 

interest to both.” 


the doctor sent for and me gettin’ warning from Captain Pilking- 
ton and the mother here cryin’.” 

Keronac said that he had never noticed such a mark, but that 
he would look when he went home. The interview terminated, 
l\Irs. Pilkington sent him in Lucy’s charge to be entertained by 
]\rrs. Brown, and Lucy on the way obtained some information on 
her own account. 

Yves Keronac was, altogether, very much pleased with his 
visit. Mrs. Pilkington had promised him a compensation for the 
loss of his adopted son, he had had a gala day at the Manor, with 
a prospect of more, should Pierrette come into his own. Tie 


136 


THE PILKINOTON HEIR. 


could not help rejoicing, too, in the joy of the mother, with whom 
he had been much pleased, and in whom ^lolly had previously 
interested him. For he was a good man in the main, with a 
warm heart under his rough exterior. 


THE FILKJNGTON HEIR. 


127 


CHAPTER XIX. 

IN WHICH MRS. PILKINGTON GOES ON A SECRET EXPEDITION. 

« 

J\1rs. PiLKiNGTON had now but one consuming desire, and that 
was to see the boy known as Iherrette, whom slie firmly believed 
to be her lost Wilfrid. Father Aubril, who had been absent on 
the occasion of Yves Keronac’s visit, endeavored to dissuade her 
from any such attempt. The affair, he said, was still uncertain. 
She might expose herself and the lad to a cruel disappointment, 
and at the best, the Sisters would have to be communicated with 
and legal formalities would cause delay. But the heart is ever 
stronger than prudence, and so it came about that Mrs. Pilking- 
ton, accompanied by Mildred, stole away from the Manor one 
morning and started for the Xorth. By an instinct she said no 
word to Lucy of her intention, nor to any of the other house 
servants. 

The faithful Marv Anne was long since the wife of a farm 
laborer and lived quite comfortably in a little house upon the 
estate. Mrs. Pilkington stopped there to tell Mary Anne whither 
she was going and why. She broke down and cried sympathically 
as poor ^Fary Anno liegan to sob. 

Oh, ma’am dear,” she said, after all these years ! oh, if Cod 
should give him back to you ! ” 

J feel in my heart that T am going to see my child now,” 
said Mrs. Pilkington, ‘^M)ut don’t tell any one of my intention. 


128 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


I have tried to be resigned — don’t you think 1 have, Mary Anne ? 
So perhaps God will have pity on me at last. 1 wanted to tell 
you and ask your prayers. A^our strong Irish faith will help me.” 
If any prayers of mine can help you, ma’am, you will have 
them,” said Mary Anne, the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

Then the warm-hearted woman gathered Mildred into her 
arms. She had been her nurse from infancy, having early asked 
Mrs. Pilkington to let her assume^that office instead of Lucy, who, 
as she said, hated squalling brats.” 

For your goodness and kindness, ma’am, to this orphan 
child, if it were nothing else, you deserve that reward,” said Mary 
Anne, almost solemnlv. 

y \j 

\ 

No, no,” said the mistress, nothing that I have done could 
deserve such mercy. But pray, pray for me, dear Mary Anne.” 
Then she added, looking back with something of her old bright 
smile : 

“ There will be great rejoicings for us all if the Pilkington 
heir is found.” 

It was a strange moment in the life of Mary Pilkington, who 

had gone through much that was out of the common, when she 

sat in the farmhouse kitchen, with its broad hearth, so spotlessly 

clean, confronting the slim, pale lad whom she believed to be her 

son. She never had anv doubt of it from the moment she looked 

1/ 

into his face. The eyes and the hair, the expression, the whole 

bearing was that of Harry Pilkington. The very sight of the 

boy set her heart a-beating and she had to put her hand upon it 

to brace herself by a strong effort. For she felt as if she must 

have fallen. All the heart-weariness, all the hunger of those long 

years was in her face. But she had to keep her feelings under 

/ 

control and to talk to this lad in a strained voice about common 



“ Mrs. Pilkinf/Ton permitted her trusted Luey to hear every word of her 

interview witti Farmer Keronac.” 


130 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


things. She saw, again, her dead husband, as he rode away on 
that last night and waved his hand to her from the avenue. Oh, 
those last nights and those last days, how they haunt tfie human 
heart, and sometimes how hard it is to know when they have 
arrived ! 

Pierrette replied to all her questions, telling his simple tale, 
finding no fault wiili his adopted parents, who, in truth, had 
ordinarily treated him well. But to the mother s lieajt there was 
a thrilling pathos in the story of his lonely youth. 

1 was an orphan,^’ he said, simply. I never knew my par- 
ents. Madame Keronac got me at the Asylum.'^^ 

He spoke, incidental! of his dogs, and at once Mildred begged 
to be allowed to go to see them. The friendship between the girl 
and boy was instantaneous, though Pierrette felt a little shy of 
this young lady in her fine clothes. But presently Mrs. Pilkington 
smiled with pleasure as she heard their voices outside in the free 
and joyous intercourse of childhood, mingled with the cheerful 
barking of the dogs. 

The mother could only sit still and pray and thank God. She 
was already sure, though she had not applied the final test of 
examining the scar at the back of the neck. This, however, she 
did before leaving, and then she tenderly embraced the boy, telling 
him that she hoped he Avould soon be coming to live with her and 
Mildred. 

^^And you will have to be sure and bring the dogs,” said 
Mildred. 

If Monsieur Keronac will let me,” he said. 

Oh, he will,” said Mildred ; so don’t forget. They are 
beauties. I love them and you, too, Pierrette.” 

They left the poor lad in a glow of delight. He already loved 


TK.^ PILKINGTON HEIR, 


13 ^ 


the beautiful lady with a boyish worship such as he had never 
known before^ and he was charmed with his playmate and re- 
joiced at the prospect that they would soon be all together. Once 
the visitors had gone Madame Keronac, who had wept copiously 
all day, told Pierrette much moxe than perhaps was quite prudent 
as to his early history and future prospects. After that he went 
about as in a dream, while Mrs. Pilkington looked back upon those 
rude farm buildings as on a place of delight. 



“*/ was an orphan,’ he said, sirnphj. ‘I never knetv my parents. Madame 

Keronao got me at the Asylum.’ ” 


For there she had experienced the first moment of happiness 
since the tragedy of that awful year had blotted out joy forever. 
In that humble place, she had looked once more into the eyes she 
loved, listened once more to the voice that thrilled every fiber of 
her being, and called all her mother soul to respond to its boyish 

accents. 


132 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER XX. 

IX WHICH SARAH SLATER VISITS THE MANOR A SECOND TIME. 

It was almost coincident with Mrs. Pilkington^s visit to the 
farm that she received an unsigned scrawl saying that there was 
a certain person who could throw some light on past events, and 
that if Mrs. Pilkington desired to see her, she would come to the 
^lanor on Wednesday after nightfall, on condition that no one 
knew of her visit and that she was paid for the trouble. 

]\Irs. Pilkington stood by the window with this note in her 
hand and pondered. She determined finally that she would see 
this person and hear her story. She wrote a line, bidding her 
come at the appointed time, promising secrecy and a fitting re- 
ward, and then she waited. As soon as it was dusk on Wednesday 
evening she caused a lamp to be lighted in a certain little sitting- 
room in a remote part of the house, especially retired from the 
servants’ quarters. After that she went to walk in the garden, 
as had been arranged. For she meant to bring the unknown 
herself into the house through the conservatory. 

As she watched and waited there was a deep, dead silence 
over all which oppressed her. The scent of the roses was too 
heavy almost to be borne, the air was close, for not the slightest 
breath stirred the tree-tops. All at once she saw the figure of 
a woman, spectral it seemed to her, advancing along one of the 
walks. A sudden nervous tremor seized upon Mary Pilkington, 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


133 


and it cost her quite an effort to stand still and let that figure 
approach. 

A sinister face to match that sinister figure presently con- 
fronted the shrinking lady, who had come so little into contact 
with what was evil that it op})ressed her, even as did the dark 
clouds in the southern sky. 

We must go in out of this,” said a harsh voice, abruptly. 

The darkness has eyes and the silence has ears ; the trees tell 
tales and the grass whispers secrets.” 

This singular address startled j\Irs. Pilkington more than ever, 
and her rei)ulsion to that evil figure increased. Pmt she had a 
strength and firmness of her own, and this interview had to be 
carried to a conclusion. It might have some bearing on the ap- 
proaching restoration of her son. 

I have thought of that,” she said, '' follow me.” 

And the strange being, like some evil genius, followed the 
footsteps of that other fair, sweet woman, who had held herself 
unspotted from the world. So they passed along the garden walk 
between the rose-bushes, white and crimson and pink and yellow, 
and the oleander trees bending their graceful shapes in the wind 
of night. And as Sarah Slater went, her reflections were as 
somber as her face. 

I hate her,” she said to herself, “ for the beauty of this 
place, which is hers, and for her wealth; and most of all, I hate 
her for the goodness that is written so plain upon her face. Shall 
I help to give her back her child ? No. I will take her money, and 
sell her again. Her very goodness shall work her evil.” 

For that dark and storm-tossed soul was seized with a kind of 
despair at sight of this virtue which had passed unscathed through 
years of suffering as it hah risen above the temptations of wealth. 


134 


THE PILKINOTON HEIR. 


Once seated in the exquisite little room the lamplight fell full 
on the shrunken figure and hardened, face of the old woman. 
Mrs. Pilkington felt a kind of pity for her; she could scarce 
have told why. 

Before I speak/^ said the visitor, I want the price of my 
trouble.^^ 

How much ? ’’ said Mrs. Pilkington, simply, taking a silken, 
knitted purse from her pocket. 

Two guineas just for coming here, ^ly terms is high, but I 
must have them.’’ 

Without a word Mrs. Pilkington counted into her hand some 
shining coins, over which the crone fairly gloated. Gold was her 
master passion. 

But,” she said, suddenly, this is but for my troul)le in 
coming here and the reason for it, which I will tell you. Any 
more information must be bought and paid for.” 

Mrs. Pilkington nodded. She felt an indescribable loathing 
for this mercenary wretch, who traded, as she felt sure, in evil. 
But as the other sat silent, counting the coins over and over, she 
forced herself to speak: 

You say you can throw light on the past?” she said. 
suppose that means on the affair of my child’s disappearance?” 

Aye, that, and other things, too,” said the strange being. 

I was near-by when midnight shots were fired and some fell 
never to rise a2:ain.” 

My God ! ” murmured Mrs. Pilkington. \Vas this old wound 
to be reopened, too? 

The whole thing was planned, well planned, too. It was 
Blackbird and his redskins did the firing. You know who Black- 
bird is ? ” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


135 


^Irs. Pilkington shook her head. 

‘^Well, he’s just an Injun that was mighty serviceable to the 
Britishers during the troubles. Some one you know tipped them 
the wink that the despatches were being sent.” 

^Irs. Pilkington, guessing at once who was meant, covered 
her face with her hands. The horror of it seemed to overcome 
lier. Why, they had been boys together, those two men, brothers 
in all but the name. 

You wrong him, though, in this,” said Sarah Slater, slowly. 
He knew the despatches were going, but he didn’t know who was 
bringing them. Hot that he wasn’t mighty glad, though,” she 
added, with a chuckle, for often he had murdered his cousin in 
his heart, and Blackbird did him a service. Those despatches 
had to be got by the Britishers, and the one you know put them 
on to how to get them; it’s for that he got himself made a Major. 
It was planned in my back parlor and I heard every word they 
said, though he didn’t know that.” 

She laughed again, her horrible, grating laugh, which made 
Mrs. Pilkington shudder, and then she resumed, while the lady 
sat silent, feeling as if she were in some horrible dream and re- 
gretting that she had allowed this old creature to cross her thresh- 
old. 

Well, even before that happened,” Sarah Slater said grimly, 
he was after the child.” 

^Irs. Pilkington started. 

“ He thought if nothing else could be done a reward might be 
offered, which would put him on his feet again. But once the 
father was gone he seen his way straight. ^ It isn’t a brat will keep 
me out of my own,’ says he.” 

Here Mrs. Pilkington started to her feet. 


130 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


# ^ 

I will not listen to anything further/’ she cried. You 

shall not make these horrible accusations against my hushaiurs 
kinsman. 1 will not believe them.” 

And I’m not asking you to believe them nor anything else, 
]\[adam Pilkington,” said the old woman, looking at her with a 
strange sort of admiration, “ but they're true, all the same, and 
if you want to hear the rest of my stoiw, which may he will please 
you better. I’ll tell it. And if not, I'll go my way.” 

Mrs. Pilkiimton involuntariiv sat down. 

Leave that person out of your narrative, if possible,” she 

said. 

Sarah went on: 

The child was got and took away. The police was mighty 
active, but they didn’t take notice that a ship was sailing very 
early on the morning after the stealing — the ^Yhite Swan, ]Mor- 
rison, inaster, and on hoard of it there was a ]\[rs. Lewis with a 
very sick child, which caused lier to keep to the cabin. Al)oard 
of her, too, was a gentleman who, on account of the recent death 
of his cousin, had but little to do with the other passengers. Oh, 
it was well planned. Who hut me would have thought of getting 
the child so quick out of the country, over to France to the kind 
nuns ? ” 

Mrs. Filkington here interposed, and there was a new stern- 
ness in her voice. 

‘MVoman,” said she, ‘‘if you have any further business with 
me, let it he spoken briefly. T will not hear these sickening de- 
tails of vour fiendish crime.” 

A dull red crept all at once into the withered face. 

Fiendish ! ” she repeated. 

Yes, fiendish!” said !Mrs. Filkington; ‘^Mo have robbed a 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


137 


latel}" widowed mother of lier child; to have left her all these 
years in ignorance of its fate. I tell yon, woman, it is only the 
all-mercifnl God who can pardon, or make me pardon, such a 
wrong/’ 

Sarah Slater was strangely moved. It seemed as if a contest 
were going on between the evil within her and the good which 
opposed her in this other woman. She felt, too, an odd desire 
to justify herself. 

And yet,” she said, \ might have killed it.” 

Killed an innocent child? Oh, no,” cried Mrs. Pilkington, 
]uitting out her hand as if to ward olf a blow. Oh, no, you 
couldn't have done that.” 

]\Iany another besides me has done it, and some there were 
who would have had me do it. Well, 1 didn’t, but I can tell you 
them that took away the child, and I can help you to get it back.” 
For the first,” said ^Irs. Pilkington, standing up, I do 
not care to know. What purpose can it answer now to learn the 
names of the heartless wretches that committed such a crime?” 
Then you shall know, my fine madam,” cried Sarah 
Slater, rising, too,‘in a sudden transport of anger. The first 
and foremost in it, as you know already by what I have said, was 
Arthur Pilkington, your husband’s cousin, and the heir-at-law 
to the estate. Besides him — ” 

Stop ! ” cried Mrs. Pilkington, raising her hand for silence. 

I will hear no more. I leave you and all concerned to God. 
And as for your help in the recovery of my child, T do not need 
it. I spurn such help. For through the mercy of God, my child 
is virtually found.” 

Are you so sure of that?” screamed Sarah Slater, in a fury. 

T know al)Out the brat you mean, and 1 l)id you be not too sure.” 


138 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


She sliook -her withered liaiid menacingly at Mrs. Pilkington 
as she spoke. 

You’ll have need of Sarah Slater and what she could tell 
you before you’re done.” 

1 do not fear for the future/” said Mrs. Pilkington, steadily ; 
good must conquer evil.” 

Sarah Slater’s face grew dark with rage, and a cold chill fell 
upon the mother’s confident spirit, while the words, I bid you 
be not too sure,” seemed as an omen of evil. Could some new 
ill befall, just when the cup of happiness was at her lips? It 
might be better, after all, to propitiate this Sarah Slater. But 
the woman had gone noiselessly out of the door, without another 
word, her features convulsed with rage, and a tempest of anger 
in her heart. ]\Irs. Pilkington, from the window, saw her turn 
in the garden path to shake her fist menacingly at the house. 
The poor lady trembled with terror and excitement. She would 
have given worlds to call for assistance, hut she believed it better 
to let the woman depart silently as she had come. AVhik she 
stood and watched the outline of her figure grow fainter, the moon 
burst suddenly out from a cloud, and it seemed to the watcher 
as a confirmation almost of her words : 

Good must triumph over evil.” 

Next day she was kept busy, as her uncle, Mr. Graystone, 
brought four or five officers with him to dine at the Manor. Mrs. 
Pilkington went forth to meet them as far as the archway which 
led into the stable yard, where their horses were to be cared for, 
and they all stood still chatting for a few moments and com- 
plimenting the lady of the Manor on the beauty of the place. 

One of the finest in the country, I should say, as well as the 
oldest,” remarked a colonel who had visited many of the ^lary- 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


139 


land and Virginia homesteads, as well as those of the old Bay 
State. 

'' We are all very proud of it and like to show it off/’ ob- 
served Mr. Graystone, '' but my niece is so devoted to her roof- 
tree that we can scarce persuade her to leave it.’^ 

I am growing too old a woman for change and stir/’ Jklary 
rilkington said, smiling, at which the officers one and all pro- 
tested. For she still looked both young and fair in the subdued 
gray gown which she had worn of late — since there had been 



“ Without a word Mrs. Pilkington counted, into her hand some shining coins 

over which the crone fairly gloated.” 


prospects of getting hack her child. When they were seated at 
table a half hour later ^fr. Graystone said: 

And what is this T hear, ^lary, as to the prospect of finding 
the Pilkington heir? That is, if these gentlemen will permit us 
to discuss family matters.” 

‘^GTt has been long an open secret, has it not?” said ^Fary, 
somewhat sadly, to the colonel, who sat at her right hand. ^Fy 
misfortunes have been so widely known that my hopes may he 
properly made public as well. For I trust that it is not prema- 
ture to speak of the probable recovery of my child.” 


140 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Slie gave some accomit of the discovery made by tlie pedler, 
Molly Deegan, of her own stolen visit to the farm, and of the 
various tokens by which she had identitied her son. The gentle- 
men were much interested. 

'' I vow to God, madam, 'tis like a romance,’' said the colonel, 
“ and your son will be the most popular young gentleman in the 
State when he comes into possession.” 

We must have a merry-making, niece. We must have a day 
of general rejoicing,” said Mr. Gray stone. “ I hope. Colonel, you 
will be here, and you, too, sirs,” he added, addressing the other 
officers. 

They all hoped they would, to which Mrs. Pilkington added 
her own desire that they should be present, concluding with the 
words : 

Though I sadly fear my uncle is giving the invitations very 
far ahead.” 

And it did ^Ir. Graystone good to hear her laugh as she used 
to do in her girlhood. 

Never fear, gentlemen,” he said, ^M}ut that soon or late, 
Pilkington Manor will do itself credit, when the heir comes 
home.” 

P>eforc the party left, Mrs. Pilkington managed to draw her 
uncle aside, and the shadow was dark upon her face again as she 
said : 

Uncle, dear, how much wickedness there is in the world, and 
how near home it comes to us.” 

^fr. Graystone looked at her keenly. 

AYhat have von heard, Marv ? ” he asked. 

She had a reluctance to speak of it, and yet she felt that he 
ought to know. She must have some protection in future from 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


141 


siicii danger. She told him briefly what she had heard, intimat- 
ing that out of respect for the name she would not have it made 
public unless in case of absolute necessity. 

“ The villain ! The double-dyed villain ! ” cried her uncle, 
hotlv. What we knew of him before was bad enoimh. No 

o 

honest gentleman would touch his hand these ten years. But a 
child, a woman — and they of his own kin ! You should have the 
law of him, niece, I tell you.*’ 

Better not,” said she, and 1 must not keep you. I see 
your friends are waiting.” 

^‘^In future, my dear, you will always have a protector near 
at hand, now that I know of this.” 

I thank God for it,” she said solemnly, as she kissed her 
uncle and saw him ride off with his friends. 


142 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER XXL 


IN WPIICH THE STORY GOES BACKWARD. 






On that b}^gone evening when Sarah Slater had so cleverly 
entrapped the heir-at-law, as he chose to call himself, Jim Hollis 

pointed out with glee to 
one of his associates the 
place of Arthur Pilking- 
ton’s imprisonment. 

The swell’s in there, 
^ the fine gentleman ! ’ ” he 
said, with a chuckle ; 


r -i 

>7l:' 



















The swell’s in there — the fine (jentleman ! ” ’ 
he chuckled.” 


that’s where she’s got 
him.” 

She ! Who ? ” cried the 


other, with real or pretended ignorance. 

Why, Sarah, of course. Oh, she’s a clever one — she's able 
for the best of them.” 

Clever she is and no mistake,” said the man addressed. 

Sometimes I think to myself she’s too smart. She’ll overdo 
it one of these davs.” 

V 

Xot Sarah Slater, not she ! ” cried Jim, with implicit con- 
fidence. Why, if I was to tell you of the schemes she’s got on 
hand ! Lor’ ! it makes me laugh only to think of them.” 

The other, who knew a good deal of Sarah himself, was, of 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR, 


143 


course, curious to hear more. But Jim became suddenly reticent 
and soon managed to get rid of his associate. He would have 
dearly loved to look in at the grating and revile his former mas- 
ter, but he had a wholesome dread of that gentleman and he 
knew that Sarah could not keep him very long in durance vile. 
Therefore he refrained, and wTiit on his way, merrily singing 
the stave of a song: 

“If I were the Mayor of Boston town, 

I’d toss for a shilling and I’d wager a crown, 

I’d eat rare beef, with wine to wash it down. 

And my wife, she should wear a silken gown.’’ 

Neat enough poor Lucy would look in it,’’ he said to him- 
self. Lucy was not his wife at that time, and he occasionally 
threw her a sentimental thought. ''And she’s the very lady to 
be pleased with it.” 

He did not see Sarah Slater, who was approaching the door 
which he had just left. Nor did she wish to be observed by him. 
She threw him a glance of contempt from her dark eyes and 
stood aside in the shade of a projecting wall till he had gone. 
Then she stepped to the door, at which she began to beat loudly, 
having found her key of no avail and perceiving that the prisoner 
must have secured the door by a bolt on the inner side. 

At first there was no response and she stood still, having in 
her apron a bottle of wine and something to eat which she 
wanted to give Arthur Pilkington. As she waited a fear darted 
through her mind. Could this prisoner, this fine gentleman, be 
dead ? A grim smile crossed her face. 

"Asleep, mayhap,” she said; "shamming more likely.” 


144 


THE PILKINGTON HE lit. 


She called again. You who are inside, come to the grating. 
There is one here to speak with yoii.^’ 

After some hesitation her (piick ear caught a sound, it was 
the creak of a bench — some one arising, 'idien there was a step, 
and a peevish voice said : 

Is it you, you infernal hag ? ’’ 

Sarah Slater made no reply. 

Is it you, I say? A devilish old hag called Sarah Slater?^’ 
Sarah Slater is here.’’ 

Then open quickly, you old witch.” 

They are quickest answered who call people and things by 
their right name,” said Sarah. 

It would be hard to find one bad enough to fit you,” cried 
the prisoner, with a coarse laugh, into which entered all the ir- 
ritation and discomfort of the past night and day. 

Then a sudden thought seemed to strike him. 

Sarah,” he said, be reasonable. We’re too old friends to 
quarrel. But it passes a joke to keep one mewed up here.” 

You don’t come out till I say to you all that’s on my mind,’’ 
said Sarah, doggedly. A bargain is best made between you 
and me by the help of locks and bolts.” 

He inwardly thought of how he should like to kill her. But 
he answered in a tone of conciliation: 

Come, then, Sarah, let us hear your bargain, for I want 
to get out of this hole as quick as I can.” 

Well, you know how it’s been from the beginning, prom- 
ising and not performing to those you got into an ugly business 
and to me. From this time on it’s different, for if you fail in 
what you undertake to do for me you shall die.” 

She said this quite calmly, as though it were an ordinary 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


145 


matter of business, and the prisoner inside could not repress a 
start. 

“ You know 1 keep my word,’^ she went on, and this is no 
idle threat. Besides, you wouldn’t want me to call on Madam 
Bilkington.” 

You dare not do that,” he cried, involuntarily. 

I’ll dare anything that pleases me,” she said, and have a 
talk with her about the stealing of the child. A pretty sum I 
might get out of her, paid down on the nail, too.” 

I don’t believe she’d listen to nor pay you a single sixpence.” 

Sarah laughed scornfully. 

Well, I could try, any way. And there’s other matters I 
might talk to her about.” 

She drew closer to the grating. 

Y"ou remember Blackbird, don’t you?” she whispered, with 
a hissing noise like that of a snake. 

He recoiled as if he had been struck. 

Are you witch or devil ? ” he cried ; then added in a husky 
undertone, but what has that to do with her ? ” 

I’ll make it clear enough when I go there,” cried she. 

Xame your terms,” said he; ‘At would take a demon to 
fight against you.” 

“ Now you speak like a sensible man,” she said, complacently, 
“ and I’ll tell you this much. To-night you'll be brought to 
my liouse, and you’ll sign and senl a paper which will give me 
a lien on the Ifilkington estate Avhen it comes into your posses- 
sion.’’ 

“ Never ! ” he cried, excitedly. “ Never that ! ” 

“Oh, yes, my dear, it will l)c just tliat,” she said, “and in 
tlie meantime, for the services I rendered in getting the child 


146 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


away, you’ll pay me regularly, mark you, and not as you’ve been 
doing, twenty-five dollars a jnonth, which is little enough.” 

But you know how devilish hard up I am,” he cried. 

Come, Sarah, be reasonable.” 

know, too, that you came into a nice little inheritance a 
month or so ago, from a maiden aunt in England, who, poor 
thing, must have been sadly deceived in you.” 

Pilkington swore under his breath. 

How did you know that ? ” he muttered. 

I know most things, my honey,” she said, gleefully. 

But if I were to do all you say — ” 

There’s no ifs with me — ” 

Well, suppose I do it — can I trust you ? ” 

The woman laughed a cynical laugh. 

Trust me ? Well, you know best. I can advance a friend 
or crush a foe with most women.” 

That you can, Sarah Slater/’ said the prisoner, with ready 
admiration. 

Well, for the time being, I want to advance you.” 

Advance me first then, by letting me out of this hole,” 

‘^‘^Hot to-night, ]\Ir. Arthur Morehead Pilkington, late of 
His Britannic Majesty’s forces.” 

He growled. 

To-morrow at dusk, my former Lieutenant in the American 
army, my negotiator with Blackbird.” 

He gnashed his teeth with the futile rage that consumed him 
at these insults. 

To-morrow evening, my heir-at-law, you shall come to my 
house, where all shall be signed and sealed in due legal form. 
And if any article of that contract be broken, there shall be first. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 147 

tlie fatted calf being killed at the Manor^ for the lost baby’s 
coming home; second, if Mrs. Pilkington so pleases, the prosecu- 
tion of the late heir presumptive; thirdly, some information 
lodged with the American government, l)y Plackbird and com- 
pany; and fourthly, if all else fail, and it be necessary, there 
shall be the death of Mr. A. M. Pilkington, cpiite sudden and 
mysterious like. Good night, sir, and play the game fair, if you 
want the stakes. And for your insolence you can go hungry this 
evening.” 



He vouchsafed no answer, but mentally greeted her with many 
an abusive name, vowing to rid the country of her before he had 
done. 

And so the night and the silence fell upon him once more in 
that improvised dungeon, where no light of any star penetrated. 
If but his conscience had awakened from its long sleep and caused 
him to put into practise the teachings of his youth, all might have 




148 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


been well. But he had ever turned aside with deliberate purpose 
from the path ^yhich leads to duty and happiness, and laughed at 
religion and its ministers. kSo that his higher faeulties had become 
deadened, lie heard the ste})s of Sarah Slater retreating. How 
hollow they sounded, with something weird and sinister in the 
echo that came back to him, like the mockery of his hopes and 
dreams, a symbol of the emptiness of life as he had made it for 
himself. And so the night wmre on with an hour or t\vo of fitful 
sleep, and so broke the day. 


❖ 


* 


* 


* 


* 


This had happened some years ago, and that Arthur Pilkington 
kept his part of the bargain seemed very evident. After the lapse 
of these years he sat confronting Sarah in her dingy parlor, and as 
it chanced, it was a continuation of that former conversation at the 
dungeon grating. This time she proposed to him a new^ scheme, 
for which he was to pay still higher, but which she assured him 
would be an infallible means of coming at the property. She told 
him cynically of her late interview with Mrs. Pilkington, which 
has been recorded in our last chapter. 

‘‘If her price had been big enough I would have sold you,^’ 
she said. 

Arthur Pilkington hashed a glance upon her which might have 
annihilated her. 

Your payments are so slow,’’ she observed. 

While you were plucking me of every farthing, you horse 
leech,” cried he, choked with passion. 

‘^^Well, she wonld have naught to do with buying me, and she 
didn’t want to hear anything about your precious self, even after 
I told her you had had the child stolen and that it was von who 
set Blackbird on — ” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


140 


That was a lie, an infernal lie ! ’’ cried Pilkington, springing 
lip. As CJod is iny witness, I did not know that Harry Pilkington 
was to carry those despatches.^’ 

I told her as much, so don’t excite yourself,” said Sarah 
Slater, her eyes fixed upon the man before her with a curious 
magnetism, which often quelled the most hardened sinner. x\nd 
you needn't threaten, for I’m not afraid of you. It’s only good- 
ness that frightens Sarah Slater.” 

She gave a peculiar laugh. She was thinking of that night 
at the ^fanor and of ^frs. Pilkington’s face as she had defied her 
and said that good must triumph. 

And now to business. The child — ”* 

Oh, hang the child. Lucy Lawless heard her talk with the 
farmer fellow and that game’s up. I’he last chance is gone.” 

You should say our chance has come. That child will never 
come into possession.” 

Arthur Pilkington stared at her. 

I mean if you act right with me,” said the woman, com- 
posed 1}\ 

What would you do? Violence to this lad?” asked Pilking- 
ton, eyeing her uneasily. 

Yone ! ” 

What, then ? ” 

That’s my secret. If my plan wins, there will l)e no heir of 
Pilkington, except yourself, of course. So let us to terms, if you 
care about the scheme.” 


150 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

IN' WHICH THERE IS A DINNER PARTY AT PILKINGTON MANOR^ AND 
ARTHUR PILKINGTON PAYS A VISIT THERE. 

That was a rare occasion at Pilkino;ton ]\ranor and recalled 
the old pre-Rc'volntionary days when it was in its full glory, 
when the oflicers of the King met the best company of the Colonies 
there, when tlie l)rilliant Alexander Hamilton exchanged witty 
sayings with Aaron Burr at tal)le, when Benedict Arnold, a 
sprightly young oil ice r, laid wagers with Anthony Wayne, and 
the Livingstons, tlie days, the He Peysters drove in gay chariots 
or lumbering family coaches to the dinners and routs for which 
the Manor was famous. 

This particular dinner party had been wholly Mr. Graystone’s 
idea, nor had it quite met with the mother’s approval. It was 
given on the very evening when the Pilkington heir was expected 
home. Only relatives of the family or very intimate friends were 
invited, for ^Ir. Graystone held tliat no time should he lost in 
presenting Wilfrid formally to them. Mr. Graystone himself had 
gone to see Yves Keronac, and had met his niece’s son, being 
greatly struck by his resemblance to Harry Pilkington. The 
mother would have preferred having the hoy to herself for a 
few days, but had yielded to her uncle’s wish. And so she had 
reluctantly permitted Lucy to go to fetch him, in company with 
^lildrcd. 

Yves Keronac had promised to accompany them as far as 


THE PILKINOTON HEIR. 


151 


Albany, in case of any mischance, and at Albany they were to be 
met by Mr. Graystone himself. 

If it were not for my confounded gout I’d have gone the 
whole way,” said ^Ir. Graystone, “ but I can’t stand jolting, and 
there’s a long wagon ride to reach there.” 

- All minor details had been arranged, even to that of the ward- 
robe, for one of the best tailors of Gotham had sent a young man 
to take measurements for suitable garments, and Pierrette was 
already provided with a complete outfit of such clothing as be- 
fitted his new station. The travelers were expected to arrive quite 
early in the morning, so that the boy would have time to accus- 
tom himself somewhat to his new surroundings before the trying 
ordeal of the evening. Mrs. Pilkington congratulated herself that 
the guests were not likely to remain very late, for the fashionable 
world kept early hours long ago. 

That memorable day dawned clear and bright, and Mrs. Pilk- 
ington was awake at sunrise, with a glow to match it of pleasur- 
able expectation in her heart. Wilfrid was coming home. That 
room which she had decorated with such loving care would be oc- 
cupied at last. 

She sprang up, dressing hastily and going out to pace up and 
down the terrace and counting the hours till he could arrive. Then 
she looked about her, observing with new eyes every separate 
beauty of the ]ilace. Was it not well that so many flowers were 
still in bloom in the garden? The roses were gone, but there 
were so many others of the choicest varieties. Their fragrance 
was almost oppressive. How Wilfrid would revel in them, and 
what pleasure he would have in roaming over the estate with 
^Tildred ! There were a thousand delights in store for a healthy 
bov fond of outdoor life and of animals. The horses, the dogs. 


152 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


the cattle^, even the very pigs, so clean and- beautifully kept, the 
fowl of every imaginable breed, tlie peacocks and guinea hens, 
the ducks on the pond, and the rabbits in the warren. There 
was a long-haired Shetland pony, to match Mildred’s, waiting in 
the stable for Wilfrid, and as he grew older he should have his 
choice of horses. 

So dreamed the mother, her thoughts going forward to the 
time when he would be a tall and graceful youth, riding out with 
the other gentlemen, handsome and admired, as his father had 
been, and popular with every one. Her reflections were inter- 
rupted by a servant announcing that l)reakfast was served. Had 
she then dreamed away that long midsummer morning? She 
smiled at herself. 

Happiness, she thought, was new to her, and she was as a 
])arvenu with lately acquired wealth. Presently, to her astonish- 
ment, l\Ir. Graystone was ushered in. 

I couldn’t go to Albany after all, niece," he said, but I sent 
a trustv fellow to meet tliem. For the fact is, that rascal Pilk- 
ington is coming here to-day.” 

Mrs. Pilkington sank back in her chair. The announcement 
seemed like an omen of evil. 

I can not see him, uncle,” she said. 

And yet it may be necessary, my dear, if only for a very 
short time. There is question of a paper to be signed.” 

A paper?” said his niece, inquiringly. 

‘"‘^Yes. The fellow called on me to express congratulations 
to you on the recovery of your son, and further offered, which I 
must admit was handsome of him and quite unexpected, to si<?n 
a document renouncing all claim to the estate, once the heir has 
been ])ut in possession. He said it would make your mind easv.” 



‘‘ Wills stood, prepared to sii/n, and Mrs. rukiiipton linyered at the doory 


154 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


It is kind/^ said Mrs. Pilkington, thoughtfully, “ and— very 
unlike hini.^^ 

“ Very. However, 1 had the document prepared and signed 
and attested and all that in presence of a notary. I got Bob Liv- 
ingstone and young Beekman to put their names to it as witnesses. 
ILit I promised to give him a letter signed by you and me in his 
presence expressing our gratification and all that at his behavior 
in this matter. xVnd he made a particular point of coming here 
to get it.’^ 

I would gladly have avoided a personal meeting with him/' 
said Mrs. Pilkington, after the revelations made me or hinted 
at 1)}' that re])ulsive woman. Still, I suppose it is best." 

Come to think of it, my dear," said Mr. Graystone, it may 
not be necessary. I will write the letter in your presence and in 
that of one of the lackeys, who can sign, with you, so as to have 
two witnesses." 

It will be an immense relief, dear uncle," she said, gratefully. 

Only, if there seems any real necessity for me to meet this un- 
fortunate man, I must do so." 

No, no, I think not," said he, and I believe we had better 
lose no time in preparing this document." 

You will find writing materials in the flowered room," said 
^[rs. Pilkington, and I will be with you there in a moment — 
when I have sent for AYills. He is very discreet, and fully ac- 
(uiainted with the family affairs." 

So Mr. Gravstone sat down in the flowered room," so called 
from the paper on the wall, and began to write that strange letter 
to the degenerate scion of a race which had been in many respects 
a noble one. The portraits of one or two of them looked down 
from their frames on the wall with that look almost of human 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


155 


interest whieh appears in pictured faces, while Wills stood, pre- 
pared to sign, and Mrs. Pilkington lingered at the door for the 
same purpose. It cost her something to express her gratification 
at any act of Arthur Pilkington’s life, but justice seemed here to 
demand it. 

Later in the day Mr. Arthur Morehead Pilkington was an- 
nounced, Wills giving every syllable with the distinctness of 
a trained servant, showing not the slightest indication in his 
face of his knowledge of the man. Mr. Graystone, appearing, 
greeted him with formal courtesy, regretting that Mrs. Pilkington 
found herself unable that day to receive him. A dark flush 
mounted to the man’s face. Even in these circumstances, which 
])laced him in so favorable a light, Mary Pilkington could not 
forget. He cursed Sarah Slater in his heart. For even should the 
estate revert to him shortly, as helioped,hewould require the social 
countenance of the former lady of the Manor could he possibly 
obtain it. Here was point-l)lank disavowal of him, a refusal to 
meet him. He had heard, too, on his way thither, of the projected 
dinner party, at which all the Pilkington kin to the farthest de- 
gree were to sit down, while he himself was excluded. 

Mr. Gravstone ushered him into the flowered room,” with 
its brocaded walls and its pictured ancestors. Arthur Pilkington 
met their grim glances with a momentary wish that he had been 
worthy of his race and could have lived honored and honorable 
like the last Pilkington of the Manor. 

'' It’s all my infernal luck,” he said to himself. For seldom, 
indeed, does the wicked man, confronted with the consequences of 
his ill-doing, admit that he alone is to 1)1 ame. He expressed him- 
self, however, as perfectly satisfiecl with the contents of the letter, 
and begged Mr. Graystone to offer his thanks with compliments 


156 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


and congratulations to Mrs. Pilkington, regretting that he had 
not seen her. lie declined all refreshment, and acted, indeed, as 
^Ir. Graystone had to acknowledge, with dignity and propriety. 

That gentleman escorted him with the same cold courtesy he 
had shown throughout the interview to the head of the stairs, 
down which Arthur Pilkington passed with much the feeling of a 
beaten hound. lie tossed a gold piece to the lackey who stood 
ready to open the door for him, with a curious wish to stand well 
with some one. On the terrace he turned to look back at the 
place, taking in its every detail, and as he did so his self-possession 
came back to him. 

It will be all right before long, I hope,'’ he said, but it was 
a master-stroke of Slater to send me here to-day for this letter, 
having previously signed a document of renunciation. It will 
put me beyond suspicion.” 

He laughed as he thought of the dinner party that night for 
the Pilkington heir. 

o 


It will be Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark, I'm 
thinking, he muttered, ^Ainless they’d like to present me to the 
company in that role.” 


The thought of the general disappointment put him in the 



best of humor. 

I will have mv revenge 
on this haughty IMadame Pilk- 
ington,” he said, “ and it will 
be linked sweetness long drawn 
out. Every hour of delay in 
the coming, the bitterness of 
having to explain to the guests, 
and then, the denouement.” 


TtiJj: FILKINGTON HEIR. 


157 


CTIArTER XXITL 

. IN WHICH THE PlLIvlNGTON llElll FAILS TO REACH THE MANOR. 

Lucy and Mildred arrived at the farm in due time. They 
were to remain overnight with the Keronacs and proceed next day 
to Albany, stopping there again for a rest of some hours, and 
reaching the Manor on the morning of the appointed day. Pier- 
rette took Mildred all over the place and they had a very merry 
time of it. Lucy announced after the midday meal that she was 
going to the woods to look for herbs and ferns for ^ladam Pilk- 
ington. As she expected, both children cried out at once that they 
must go, and Lucy, of course, consented. 

Now on their way home again, they passed a field wherein had 
been set up the tents of a circus, with huge posters concerning the 
Great World Show,^’ and the manifold attractions it offered. 

Oh, we must go in,^’ cried IMildred. I never saw a circus.’’ 

Pierrette dared not add his entreaties, for he was far from 
feeling the young lord of the Manor as yet, or as being in a posi- 
tion to give orders to the fine lady’s maid. 

But, Mi ss ]\Iildred, what would mamma think? ” 

She wouldn’t think anything. She’d like Wilfrid to have 
that amusement.” 

But here am T in my cap and apron and ibis basket,” hesi- 
tated Lucy. 

Oh, they’ll know you’re with us — it doesn’t matter, and you 
can hide the basket,” cried ^fildred. 


158 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


And so after an affected resistance, for Lucy had brought them 
to this spot on purpose, the children went in. They wandered 
about the grounds, visiting the menagerie in the first place, and 
buying peanuts and gingerbread horses, most of which they gave 
to the elephants, delighted to see them catch them in their trunks, 
or to the monkeys, who snatched morsels and ran away, as if they 
had been stealing. After which they went into the tent, charmed 
with the tinsel delights of the place, and pointing out to each other 
the clown and the lovely ladies in tarlatan, who leaped through 
hoops to the backs of horses, and the wild riders of the West, and 
the performing animals, all with unaffected applause and audible 
comments, which caused the bystanders to smile. Pierrette spoke 
English with a French accent, though he spoke it reasonably well, 
as M. Keronac had taken pains to have him taught and to 
practise Avith their English-speaking neighbors, for practical 
reasons. 

Just as the children and Lucv had left the tent and Avere 
crossing the open field a middle-aged man stopped them. Pierrette 
recognizing him as one Avho had exercised authority in the ring, 
AAdiispered to Mildred : 

It'S the shoAvman ! ’’ 

But the person so designated addressed himself AAdiolly to Lucy, 
Avith strange agitation and a voice hoarse from some emotion. 

For the love of heaven, my good girl, tell me,’’ he cried, 
Avho is this boy ? I have been Avatching him during the per- 
formance and I knoAA^, I feel that he is mv OAvn son, lost in in- 
fancy.” 

^lildred drcAV back in dismay from this man, clinging closely 
to Lucy. Pierrette had no other sensation than that of surprise 
and an uneasv idea that the man might be mad. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


159 


Lucy, apparently terrified, stammered out that he was the 
son of a great lady. 

He is not the son of any lady at all. He has been living 
with Farmer Keronac and is, I believe, my lost child.” 

The farmer brought him from France,” argued Lucy. 

Precisely — from Brittany, and procured him from the Sis- 
ters’ Hospital,” cried the showman. 1 knew it must be he as soon 
as I beheld him.” 



' Hoity-toity , my little man!’ said the shoioman. ‘Yon are an 

unnatural son.’” 


Go away at once,” cried Lucy. He has just been identified 
as the child of Mrs. Pilkington and I am taking him to her.” 
''Never! ” cried the man. "But stay; T will convince you.” 
He seized upon Pierrette excitedly, pointing out to Lucy a 
tiny scar upon the back of the neck. 

"Does that convince you?” he cried. "It was the clown let 



160 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


him fall in a trick he was doing. Why, he has the very features 
of iny wife, Flora. 1 tell you he shall come with me.” 

lie took a firm grasp of the boy’s arm as he spoke. Lucy 
shrieked and sobbed, saying that she would call for the police. 
One or two men upon the grounds looked curiously in the direc- 
tion of the group, but made no attempt to interfere. 

“ But 1 shall not go with you,” said Pierrette, with sudden 
self-assertion. You are an impostor.” 

Hoity-toity, my little man! ” said the showman, there is a 
law which compels a boy to go with his father and to obey him. 
Once under my control, I promise you, I will make you obey. But 
you are an unnatural son. You draw tears from my eyes.” 

He wiped his organs of vision with a great red handkerchief. 

I never saw you in my life,” cried Pierrette, stoutly. 

Not since babyhood, alas, no ! — and you could not remem- 
ber. Why should I condemn you? But you must come with me 
now. I have every proof at hand, for I have been studying the 
case for many months and would have claimed you formally from 
^I. Keronac before leaving here had not my feelings overcome me 
to-day. I could no longer wait. Flora, your mother, is sick with 
waiting. So come, my lad, do not grieve your parents by your 
heartless conduct. Do not let your head be turned by the thought 
of this fine lady, who has taken a fancy to you. You are the child 
of humble, but honest folk.” 

Under all the man’s smoothness of speech there was a menace, 
and Pierrette felt it. TTis experience even with the worthy M. 
Keronac in his angry moments had taught him that much. Still 
he repeated, stoutly: 

I will not go with you.” 

Then T must call upon the constable yonder,” said the man, 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


161 


firmly. I his foolish notion of being the son of great people 
has turned your head. You will soon forget all that.’" 

He began to drag the lad along with so strong and masterful 
a giasp that there was no resisting. Mildred, however, began to 
scream aloud. 

You are a bad man. You must not take away our Wilfrid.” 
A constable strolled up. 

Whaf s all this outcry, Mr. Hobson ? ” 

A disobedient son,” said the showman ; but I shall know 
how to manage him.” 

'' He isn’t his son at all,” said Mildred. 

I never saw the man till to-day,” added Pierrette. 

But the constable was already strolling away with a nod to 
the shoAvman and the remark that he had a troublesome lad to 
deal with. Lucy Lawless, meantime, with face buried in her apron, 
wept aloud. 

Lucy,” cried ]\Ii hired, as Pierrette was forced awav. How 
dare you let that man take our Wilfrid ? ” 

How can I help it, miss ? ” cried Lucy. He says he has 
the law on his side, and the proofs, and he might have us all took 
to prison! How can we ever tell poor, dear missis? How can I 
ever go back without the boy ? I wish I had let the pedler woman 
come for him.” 

Mildred stood after that as one dazed, nor would she stir while 
there was a sight of Pierrette. Then she cried out to Lucy : 

Let us go back to M. Keronac. Perhaps he can help us.” 
Lucy, sorrowfully shaking her head, led the way to the farm, 
whence Yves himself set out straightway to see the showman. This 
latter declared that his circus was to move on the morrow, but 
that he desired nothing better than to settle matters at first with 


102 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


the farmer, lie was firm in the stand lie had taken and would 


not allow M. Keronac to see the lad. 

It will only unsettle him/’ he said. ‘MIe is mine, I tell 
you. 1 have all the i)roofs and would hav(‘ been at your house with 


them to-day, in any case. This tine lady has merely got a notion 
into her head about the boy, as such folks will. She is ]io more 
his mother than your wife is, nor so much, because it is your 
missis has had the care of, him. ’ 


The farmer was staggered by the other's coiitident hearing. 

'' 1 tell you,” the showman went on, '' 1 haven't made no mis- 
take in this business. For apart from natural affection, this lad 
will he of use to me in my 'jirofession, and he’ll ha\ie it all some 
day when I’m gone.” 

Itut how does it happen,” asked the farmer, that this claim 
of vours comes up just when the lady has established hers? ” 

jMy dear sir,” said the showman, I need not tell a man of 
your experience ” — he paused to give this stroke of flattery its 
full effect, knowing very well that the farmer's experience had 
been a limited one — I need not tell you that such coincidences 
happen every day. I will show you all the papers. I will go with 
you before any magistrate you name. But it must be done quickly. 
My professional engagements admit of no delay.” 

Why not leave the boy with me till the lady can be brought 
here ? ” suggested M. Keronac. 

Because, between Amu and me, T don’t trust these rich folks. 

* ^ 

They put their Avhims before the very lives of the poor. I have 
found my boy and I will not let him out of my sight again. Ko 
offense to you, my friend, to whom I owe a thousand thanks for 
your care of my son. I can say no more, except that you will not 
find me ungrateful. You shall be compensated.” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


103 


It is not an afTair of money/’ said the farmer, gravely, for 
he was an honest man. It is a question of right. If the lady 
is this hoy’s mother, she should have him.” 

And 1 being his father beyond doubt, and needing his help, 
must have him. You are a man of justice and of heart.” 

The law must decide,” said the farmer, hut you must re- 
main here till the lady conies.” 

At great inconvenience I will do so,” assented the showman, 
for the matter must be settled now and forever.” 

Poor M. Keronac went home in great trouble and perplexity 
to his wife, lie found her weeping with Lucy and ]\Iildred. The 
farmer’s wife was altogether against Mr. Hobson and his claims. 

“ I am sure he is an impostor,” she cried, over and over. For 
her heart had gone out to the gentle Mrs. Pilkington and she 
pitied her long suffering. Moreover, it had seemed a fine thing 
to have her adopted son transported to so grand a place, whence 
he would not fail to lavish favors on them. 

But M. Keronac was more doubtful. The showman had been 
very positive in his statements and was prepared to confront Mrs. 
Pilkington or any one else with his evidence. Lucy reluctantly 
came round to the farmer’s way of thinking. 

I fear you are right, sir,” she said. “ Our poor, poor ladv 
has been mistaken, and it will break her heart. How can I ever 
go hack to tell her of it ? ” 

Whereupon both the farmer and his wife set to work to con- 
sole this faithful and tender-hearted domestic. But Mildred held 
coldly aloof. 

The law must decide,” repeated the farmer, and we must- 
let the lady know without delay.” ; 


164 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHArTER XXIV. 


IN WHICH FATHER CJiRlSTlAN READS HIS LETTER. 


A SPECIAL messenger was sent from the Prefecture of Police 
at Marseilles to the Foundling Hospital in answer to a letter which 
had been received there from the Mother Superior, who was now 
no other than Sister Margaret of long ago. 

“ I feel convinced;’’ she had said, '' that there is some roguery 
in all this, hut I can not put my finger upon it. 1 want this show- 
man to be located and watched. When our chaplain has heard 
again from his brother in America, other steps may have to be 
taken.” 

The Superior was well known at the Prefecture, and, indeed, 
throughout the whole city. Therefore the Commissary of Police 
sent out a special mounted messenger to inform her that the show- 
man was within a short distance of ‘the very city of Marseilles, and 
that the hoy was with him, acting as a member of the troupe and 
known as the proprietor’s son. Hobson made no effort at conceal- 
ment, he added, even using his newly-found son as an advertise- 
ment for his show, declaring that powerful people in America had 
sought to rob him of his only child. 

Though ^lother Margaret had this matter very much at heart, 
she placed the Commissary’s letter in the archives with all else 
bearing upon this case, and went serenely on with her duties, which 
were almost innumerable. She found it hard to dispute the show- 



“ ^ ^V/c (/ocs. Monsieur VAhM, as her wont is — not too fast, not too slow/^^ 


1G6 


THE PILKINOTON HEIR. 


man’s claim, as the evidence he had produced was equally as strong 
as that of Mrs. Pilkington. Put the good Peligious felt sure that 
the showman was not really the boy’s father, and that he was act- 
ing with the connivance of others. The Commissary of I’olice had 
inclined to this opinion, but had been cautious in the expression 
of it. 

“ We shall see, IMadani,” he had said to the Superior, we shall 
see ; and you may count at all times, my Eeverend Mother, on my 
readiness to serve you.” 

It was some time after this that Father Christian drove to the 
convent, which was a little way out of the city, to give Benediction 
and to bring the news. It seemed to the old priest that his mare, 
Suzanne, had never gone so slowly as upon that occasion, and he 
remarked upon this to his man, who replied: 

She goes. Monsieur I’Abbe, as her wont is, not too fast, not 
too slow.” 

The evening air was cool and bracing, the Inrds singing in the 
tree tops and the gray sky breaking here and there into deep 
crimson, orange, or purple. The priest was for once indifferent 
to these things, apostrophizing the horse. 

Thou art slow, my Suzanne, thou art slow. MTiy art thou 
not voung ? ” 

For he was impatient to read his letter to the Superior, and to 
talk over the whole affair. This, of course, was not till after 
Benediction. Then he sat down in the little parlor and spread 
out the letter, reading in a muttering tone such parts of it as were 
purely personal, and emphasizing all that related to the matter 
in hand. 

"‘'There is not much in the letter which we do not already 
know,” observed the Superior, thoughtfully, ""hut you will per- 


THE PILE I NOT ON HEIR. 


167 


ceive that the motlier dwells upon the peculiar color of the hair, 
between amber and chestnut. Now, that tallies with my own ob- 
servation, for I remember remarking the very same thing when 
the child was brought to us, and can prove it by the lock of hair 
1 then cut off.’’ 

Father Christian nodded approval and the Superior went on: 

When the man is confronted with me, which I intend shall 
be soon, I will ask him the color of the hair. Ten chances to one 
- he will answer fair, as most infants are fair-haired. That is, of 
course, unless he has really seen this boy in infancy or has been 
instructed upon these minor details. Oh, we may convict him 
upon this very point, miserable impostor that he is,’^ concluded the 
Iteligious. 

That has yet to be proved, my Reverend Mother,^’ laughed 
the priest. 

“ And with God’s help we shall prove it,” cried the Superior. 

Well, my sanguine lady, keep the children hard and fast at 
prayer,” said Father Christian. I have no confidence in your 
own, you see.” 

Just because I am fat and rosy,” said Mother Margaret, with 
her cheery laugh, which it did one good to hear. If I were like 
the pictures of your old-fashioned medieval saints now, or like our 
^lother John here,” pointing to a thin and ascetic little Sister, 
who Just then appeared, ^^you would be putting all your intentions 
in my hands.” 

All three of them laughed ; for these nuns were like a parcel 
of merry children, and Father Christian was a schoolboy again 
when he got out to the convent, full of jests and laughter. 

And T haven’t told you the greatest news of all yet,” said he, 
adjusting his spectacles. 


168 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


^MVhat’s that?” imiuired Mother Margaret. 

It’s just in a postscript and it reads thus: ^ Mrs. Pilkiugton 
sails from New York for France on Saturday next.’ ” 

’raise be to God!” cried the Superior; ‘^that’s the very 
thing.” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


169 


CTTAPTER XXV. 

AT TIIK CJKKAT WORLD SHOW. 

Meantime at tlie Croat World Show of Henry Hobson 
there was a long list of attractions for that week as the posters 
and haring hand-bills announced. The giant and his wife; the 
])yginies; the performing hear, who seated himself on a stool, rang 
a liell, and fanned himself; the learned dog, who, in gown and 
spectacles, told fortunes; the monkeys, who performed a panto- 
mime, with harlequin, clown, and pantaloon. The marvelous ele- 
])hant. Cosmos, supposed to be over a hundred years old, who per- 
formed astonishing feats; A'ictor de Aleron, the boy acrobat, who 
climbed to astounding heights; the ladies, who rode with one foot 
on the back of a. mustang, and the men-jockeys who did still more 
extravagant things. Last but not least on the list was the lost 
son, the victim of tyranny, rescued from the clutches of the 
wealthy and powerful, chiefly through the sagacity of the wonder- 
working Cosmos. 

All the people of that village and many from the town itself 
poured out to see this circus. Even the vans had an unusual dis- 
play of gilt and of bright coloring, with thrilling pictures of wild 
beasts. The menagerie, it was claimed, exhiliited every animal 
which had survived with Xoe. The chariots, the dresses of the 
ladies, the tight-rope dancers, the contortionists and the jugglers, 
with a complete list of freaks, were such as to set the rustic imag- 
ination on fire. 


170 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Tlie talcs that went al)Oiit among the children concerning that 
elephant and those monkeys were marvelous in themselves, while 
bear and dog and lost l)oy excited them to the uttermost. 

^fr. Hobson was reaj)ing a harvest. For the report about the 
lad and Ids wonderful adventures brought thither many who would 
not have patronized an ordinary circus. Great people came from 
a distance, either from curiosity or in some instances from benevo- 
lence to do something to compensate the father for all that he 
had undergone. 

The boy was still called Pierrette. Hobson scored a point by 
declaring that he retained the name out of gratitude to the good 
farmer, the protector of his child, and Pierrette was glad to keep 
the name, which was all that remained to him of his former life. 
Bv contrast with this it seemed an ideal one. At first he had en- 
joyed certain things about his new career with all a boy’s zest for 
the marvelous, but it had all l)ecome flat, stale, and unprofitable. 
It was wearisome, indeed, to the last degree, and Hobson privately 
ill-treated the lad as much as was safe to do; he was badly lodged 
and worse fed. Pierrette had become familiar with all the de- 
ceptions of the trade, the precautions which surrounded the ap- 
parently reckless climber, the limited powers of the animals, whom 
he knew in the familiarity of daily life and loved for their natural 
traits, and the shabbiness of the tinsel decorations. 

So that upon the particular evening when Father Christian 
had ridden over to the convent, he stood, weary and dispirited, 
watching through a peep-hole the performance of the wonder- 
working Cosmos, who was a particular crony of his, and with whom 
he often performed. In the scene he was watching the elephant 
seized ^fademoiselle Viola round the waist with his trunk as she 
descended from a pillar and set her securely u])on the ground. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


171 


the ringmaster, meanwhile, shouting and waving, dreading a catas- 
tro]die. The impression to he produced on the pnhlic mind was 
that the sagacious Cosmos, seeing the lady in a dangerous position, 
rescued her out of his own wisdom. Pierrette knew, on the con- 
traiw, what a weary time had been spent in training the poor 
animal to perform this feat, and in truth he thought that the 
tricks Cosmos did of his own accord were more amusing. 



He ivas icatchinrj the elephant seize Mademoiselle Viola round the waist as 

she deseendcd from a pillar.’* 


The applause, which was deafening, made the headache from 
which Pierrette was suffering worse. He moved away as far as 
possible from the noise and crowd, hut presently, to his dismay, he 
heard the harsh voice of Mr. Hobson behind him. 

''Quick! quick!'' it cried. "The public want a special per- 
formance of your scene with Cosmos." 

" iffy head aches," moaned Pierrette. 


172 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR: 


“ Into your spangled suit on the instant ! cried the showman, 
giving Pierrette a few cuts with the whip he used in the ring to 
hurry liim. The boy dared not refuse, and hurried toward the 
dressing-tent. When he reached there he encountered i\ladenioi- 
selle Farnarelli, in a very bad humor, because her famous chariot 
scene had fallen flat, though she drove six wild horses, which, 
by the by, w-ere wmrii hacks. The public did not want her. they 

ke])t calling for the lost boy and the elephant. 

Out of my way, little vagabond ! she cried, in pure Saxon, 

dealing Pierrette at the same time a sounding slap in the face. 
Thk caused the learned dog, who sat ready in cap and gown, to 
s])ring growling from the chair, his spectacles still on his nose. 
Ue w'as a special friend of Pierrette’s, and he did hot let his cos- 


tume interfere wdth a summary vengeance upon the Amazon. He 
frightened her thoroughly and left the mark of his teeth just 
above her ankle. The learned one, tripping over his gowm, ran 


wa^mn" his tail to lick Pierrette’s hand. 

But the entrance of ^fr. Hobson, whip in hand, brought thither 
by Mademoiselle’s scream, soon restored the animal cringing and 
fawming to his dignified position on the chair, wdiile at the lady’s 
request the dog’s offense was visited upon Pierrette, w^ho got sev- 
eral sharp cuts of the whip. 

^lademoiselle Farnarelli was in had luck that night, for the 
prize monkey, "who had been asleep in the dressing-room when she 
entered, seized upon her false front and ran high up on the par- 
tition wall wdth it. He sat there, grinning and jabbering, clapping 
it at last on his own shaven poll, to the intense amusement of the 
mustang riders, men and wmmen, who made audible jests about 
it and greeted the Farnarelli wn’th a shout of laughter w'hen she 
put her head out at the door, striving to reach the monkey with 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


r-.y 
i O 


liei riding whip. But the beast eluded her cleverly, springing from 
point to point on his high perch. 

At last the acrobat took pity on her distress, for the woman, 
abandoning the struggle, burst into tears. With Pierrette’s as- 


sistance the animal was captured, looking inexpressibly comical 
in the blonde wig, which, indeed, he seemed loath to relinquish, 
growling and jabbering angrily when it was taken from him. 
Miserable as Iherrette felt, he was convulsed with laughter at 
the animals appearance. Mr. Hobson reappeared just then to 
tell him that the Egyptian jugglers were aliout finishing, and 
that he was next on the bill. Pierrette, in a blue and scarlet suit 


covered with spangles, crowned by a cocked hat and completed 
by a sword, with wonderful jeweled hilt, passed hastily across 
the space occupied by the riders and other performers, wdio 
greeted him wdth a round of stale jokes. He ^vas soon at the 
entrance to the ring, w'here he stood with a heating heart, hearing 
Mr. Hobson make his lying, preliminary speech. 

The ’whole performance 'was distasteful to him, so that he hated 
forever after the very smell of the sawTlust. The bell rang and 
he was in the center of the ring, ’with thunders of applause in his 
ears, with the two or three other personages who represented the 
tyrannical plutocrats, with the elephant, slowly advancing 
toward him. Pierrette could discern among the crowM the smil- 
ing, happy faces of children, charmed wdth the performance, and 
he remembered, with an indescribable pang, that he had so lately 
been like them. 

On his way back to the tent be almost stumbled over and 
stopped to caress another friend, the tame bear, who was sitting 
erect on its haunches, with a huge nnt bet’ween its paws. 


174 


THE TILKINGTON HE IK. 


CHArTER XXYI. 

IN WHICH FATHER CHRISTIAN HAS A GUEST. 

Father Christian invited the Commissary of Police to dine 
with him at the vicarage. He wanted to discuss the whole of 
Iherrette’s case with him and awaken his interest in the fortunes 
of the lad. 

The estate to which he would fall heir, if his identity can be 
proved,^’ he said, is a princely one, so they tell me. My brother 
describes the rich lands, the orchards, the gardens, the conserva- 
tories, the farm yard, the avenue, the chateau itself as magnificent. 
Now, my friend the Commissary, the mother of this boy will give 
a proportionate reward for his recovery.’’ 

There are difficulties,” said the Commissary, taking snuff 
and proceeding to dilate upon them. 

The evidence of this Hobson is very strong, my Peverend 
Father, very strong. His proofs seem as conclusive as those of 
^Irs. Pilkington. Even the smallest details are supplied and a 
doubt thrown cleverly on much that the lady has adduced in 
proof of her claim.” 

And yet,” said Father Christian, looking at the Commissary, 
we are all convinced: the mother, my brother James, the pedler 
woman, the good Superior at the Hospital, and myself.” 

ITou may enroll me in that worthy company,” said the Com- 
missary, for I am almost convinced myself. But how to .prove 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


175 


it, or rather how to break 
some one more clever than 
the heir-at-law ? 


down this man's evidence. There is 
our Hobson behind it. Is it, then. 


iyiy brother reports that he has acted well in this matter, 
said Father Christian, renouncing his claim at the time it was 
supposed the boy had been found 
Hem ! ” said the police otlicer. 


G 


And refusing to press his claim now, though the very docu- 
ment he signed gives him the right, imtil this Hobson affair has 
been thoroughly sifted.’’ 

He refuses, you say, to press his claim ? ” 

Till the showman has established his rights beyond ques- 
tion.” 


^ generous mid high-minded,” said the Commissary, 
but how does it fit in with his general character and antece- 
dents ? ” 

The priest hesitated. 

There speaks the police officer,” he said with a smile. Like 
his brother, he hated to think evil of others, still more to put 
his thoughts into words. But justice was at stake here and he 
answered : 

Frankly, I understand that his character is bad, his ante- 
cedents dishonorable.” 

Is he a very clever man ? ” 

I had not so heard him described.” 

Something has to be explained,” said the Commissary. It 
is a quick wit, a good memory, and an understanding capable of 
directing a cabinet which has planned all this.” 

^fy brother writes that the pedler puts it down to a woman.” 
Ha ! to be sure ! ” cried the Commissary. The ingenuity 


176 


TEE FILE IN ETON HEIR. 


of detail would point to a woman's sagacity. Is it the nurse, 
Lawless ? 

^^No; though she is under suspicion, and has been at last 
dismissed from Mrs. Ihlkington's service, of which my brother is 
glad. The pedler ascribes it to another woman, much feared in 
those parts.^’ 

Could you by any chance get at her name ? 

Why, readily. It is written here in my brother’s letter.’’ 
And Father Christian read aloud : Sarah — Sarah Slater.” 

The Commissary did not find any fault with the priest’s pro- 
nunciation of this name, and repeated it Avith much the same 
accent. 

“ Sarah ! Sarah Slater,” he said. I seem to haA^e heard it 
someAvhere. If I but had my notebook Avith me.” 

He lapsed into deep thought, presently counting on his fingers. 

The Marly murder case, international complications, AA'Oman 

iiiA^oh^ed. Yes; good. The Nancy diamond theft; thieves tracked 

to America ; a AA^oman receiver. A"es. Good again. The Paris 

stage-coach business. Yes. An affair in London. Good. I have 

it. Sarah Slater is of international reputation; bears a ATry bad 

name; has throAvn the police off the track a score of times. She 

is knoAvn at the Prefecture of cATry toAvn in France. She is 

familiar at Scotland Yard, and she keeps the American men on 
•* 

the jump. BetAveen you and me, she is a marvel.” 

He spoke Avith something like admiration, Avhich the priest 
could not share. 

Yes, belieA'e me. Father, she it is Avho has this affair in hand, 
managing the heir-at-laAv and the nurse and all of them, and I 
can truly say I Avish Ave had to deal Avith any other living crim- 
inal.” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


177 


You amaze me, sir/*’ cried good, simple Father Christian, 
holding uj) his hands in horror, A woman ! Alas ! Our human 
nature is perverse, and when a woman goes wrong, it is an angel 
that has fallen.’’ 

This is rather a demon that has risen up,” said the police 
officer, and 1 would rather struggle against the cleverest lawyer 
at the bar.” 

Father Christian’s face showed the trouble that he felt, and 
there was silence, the lamplight falling on the two men and on 
the modest dinner table at which they sat. 

Cheer up. Father. We may be able to buy her off.” 

The priest shook his head. 

1 Avould rather, if it were possible, to have no compromise 
with evil,” he said. “ We have right on our side, and justice, 
which is eternal.” 

Does it always triumph. Father?” asked the olficial, in a 
tone rather of despondency than of cynicism. 

Somewhere, somehow, it infallibly does,” said the priest; 
but I admit that we do not always see it here below. But events 
are surely made to fit into each other, providentially working for 
the better good.” 

I trust it will be so in this case,” said the Commissary, ris- 
ing to take his leave. He had been so much interested by the 
mention of Sarah Slater’s name that he was eager to hasten home 
and study up her record. 

]\reanwhile, at the circus, Pierrette had just finished his act 
with Cosmos, which had been more successful than ever. He was 
feeling unusually worn and weary, while his head ached pain- 
fulH, and he was glad to creep away 'to the stalls, where he and 
the other boys slept, quite close to that of Cosmos and the rest 


178 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


of the animals. For Hobson made a splendid display of impar- 
tiality, and declared that his own boy should lodge as did the 
others. They each had a mattress, comfortable enough, and suf- 
ficiently clean, stretched upon a low, wooden bed. 

Pierrette sat down a few moments on the edge of a comrade's 


bed. This was the boy acrobat, who had been feverish, so that a 
doctor had been summoned, and had ordered him a cooling 
draught. Cosmos, hearing the sound of his favorite’s voice, ad- 
vanced as close as he might to the bar separating his stall from 
the lad's apartment, stretching out his trunk and striving to 
reach Pierrette. 

Xo, no. Cosmos, good Cosmos. 1 don't want to play to- 
night. I am tired.” 

And the beast, as if understanding, stood ])erfectly still, ap- 
parently interested in what the boys were saying, and watching 
them with his small eyes. 

I think I’m getting sick like you, Victor,’’ said Pierrette. 

I feel so hot and my head aches.” 

It s that plaguey ring,” said the other boy, suddenl}'’ burst- 
ing into tears, and. I hate it, and I ain’t no Victor de Meron. 


but just plain Johnny Jones, from ]\rarvlebono.” 

I hate the ring, too,” said Pierrette. I love the animals, 
but I just hate the performance.” 

Let us cut and run,” said the English lad, ^Vvhen I get out 
of this ’ere bed.” 

Pierrette shook his head. 

It won t do for mo,” he said. 1 must stay here till thinsrs 
are settled.” 

The sick boy burst into a discordant laugh, which caused the 
elephant to prick up its ears. 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


179 


Do you believe that yarn that the boss put up to gull the 
public ? 

“ No/^ said Pierrette. 1 knew all about it before I ever 
set eyes on the boss, and if he hadn’t come along Just then I 
would have been in that lovely place all this while with my mother 
and Mildred.’’ 

Don t you believe it, don t now',” said the other earnestly, 
for he really liked his companion. 

^'But it’s true,” said Pierrette. I often dream of it at 
night, the lovely house, wdth lots of trees and flowers ; oh, how" 
I wdsh 1 w^re there now to cool my head ! ” 

\ oil go to bed,” said the other boy, and wet your ’ead with 
some of this ’ere w'ater the doctor give me.” 

He pointed to a bottle on the table beside him, which Pier- 
rette mechanically took up, w'ctting his handkerchief freely with 
the liquid it contained. As he got unsteadily on his legs, he said : 
Victor — ” 

Call me Johnny,” cried the other, peevishly. 

^^Well, then, Johnny, if ever I get there, you will have to 
come to see me. You’ve been good to me ahvavs.” 

As he w'as about turning away, wdth a miserable sense of 
lightness in his head. Cosmos stretched out his trunk to touch the 
lad, wdth almost human sympathy. Pierrette caressed it gently, 
saying : 

Good night, old Cosmos. You don’t know how badly my 
head ached wdien I was in the ring with you to-night.” 


180 


THE FILKINGTON HEIR. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

IN WHICH MRS. FILKINGTON AND jNIILDRED FAY A STOLEN VISIT. 

To Mrs. Pilkington that voyage across the Atlantic seemed 
interminable. At last, having arrived at their destination, she 
drove straight to Father Christian’s house, sending her luggage 
and Mildred’s to the hotel. She had resolved to leave her young 
companion at the convent till there was some prospect of a set- 
tlement at least. But that was to come later, for the girl was 
all impatience to see Wilfrid, as she called him, again. They 
were both struck by the likeness of Father Christian to his 
brother, and he seemed to speak, in this foreign land, with the 
familiar accent of home. It was not until he had prevailed upon 
them to take some refreshment that he began, hesitatingly : 

The child, the boy — ” 

My son,” said Mrs. Pilkington, promptly. It is of him 
I have been wishing to speak.” Her whole heart was in her eyes, 
and the priest said gently : 

He is ill.” 

^Irs. Pilkington gave a cry. 

''Has been seriously so,” continued the priest; 'Mnit, thank 
God, he is better and in the way of recoverv.” 

“ Where is he ? ” 

I am sorry to say he is still at the tents of the showman.” 
said Father Christian. Mr. Hobson obstinatelv refused to allow 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


181 


him to be taken to the hospital, where the Sisters would have 
cared for him. He said there was a plot to take him away from 
him.’^ 

Let us go thither without delay.'’ 

But, uiadauv’ said the priest, reflect. It is late ; it will be 
night before you reach there. The way is a lonesome one, nor 
can I even go with you. I am on duty for sick calls.” 

Nevertheless 1 must go,” said the lady. 1 must make my 
way thither.” 

But perhaps this Hobson may even refuse to let you see 
him,” argued Father Christian. 

The more reason to surprise him, to go there by night and 
on foot.” 

On foot ! ” cried the priest, in horror. 

Yes ; by the help, of course, of a guide, (kin you recommend 
one ? ” 

My servant shall go with you. He is an honest lad from the 
country. He shall take a dark lantern, lest the road be too dark. 

And he added, after a pause: 

^^Your plan is, perhaps, after all, the best. Were you to 
arrive there in a carriage, he would perhaps raise an outcry and 
say that the great people had come to take his son. He would 
possibly deny you a sight of the lad, and make of the whole affair 
an advertisement.” 

“ We shall reach the place as quietly as we can,” said Mrs. 
Pilkington, ‘^^and try to make our way to the stall wherein you 
say my poor boy sleeps. I would much prefer that this Mr. Hob- 
son should not know as yet of my presence in the city.” 

The priest highly approved of this plan, admiring the good 
judgment and energy of the woman, so fragile, so delicate in 


182 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


appearance. For this last sorrow had aged her, touching her hair 
with gray and making lines on the exquisite ivory of her face, 
so miniature-like in its soft oval. 

When that memorable dinner party of forty distinguished 
guests, all holding high places in the vicinity of New York, sat 
down at Pilkington Manor the hostess had been suffering in- 
describable agony. Only the courage of her high breeding had 
enabled her to preside conjointly with Mr. Graystone over that 
brilliant assembly, seeming to accept the congratulations of the 
guests on the recovery of her son as though he had been actually 
with her. They had seemed to consider his non-arrival as merely 
a delay occasioned by bad traveling; but the mother’s heart told 
her there was more than that in the disappointment. As tlie 
day had worn on each hour had l)rought her a new pang, and 
long years after, recalling that evening at the Manor, she won- 
dered at herself that she could have appeared at all. 

The glare of the wax-lights, the splendor of the famous Pilk- 
ington silver, with chasings wrought by bygone silversmiths, 
had turned her sick and cold; the odor of the flowers, the rich 
and costly viands, the gorgeous gowns of the ladies, who had vied 
Avith each other in doing honor to the occasion, Avith the courtly 
politeness of the men, and the gay and Avitty conversation, all 
had seemed to her a phantasmagoria, behind Avhich lurked the 
shadoAV of another tragedy. 

She recalled that scene Avith curious vividness as she stumbled 
along the dark and stony road toAvard the tents of the Great World 
ShoAV. She remembered, too, hoAV Lucy had returned hysterical 
and, as it Avere, half crazed by this neAV misfortune. Despite her 
protestations, Mrs. Pilkington had noA^r after doul)ted her guilty 
knoAvledge of the Avhole conspiracy, from first to last, and had then 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


188 


and there dismissed her, declaring that the sight of her would 
forevermore be painful. After that there had been weeks and 
months of nncertainty and anguish, and now she was near her 
son at last. She dared scarcely hope that she would really see 
him, for disappointment had seemed to dog her footsteps. 

It was a chill and starless night and there was a moaning 
wind, which struck painfully upon her overwrought nerves. Slie 
held JMildred’s hand, and together they followed the guide. 



“ Only the courage of her high breed ing had enabled her to preside over that 

brillian t assent bly.” 


With your ladyship’s permission,” the man said, stopping 
abruptly at one point of the road, I will light my lantern. We 
are coming to the ruins now.” 

^^Ituins?” inquired ^Irs. Pilkington, though with hut little 
interest. 

It was a castle once. A had baron lived there, and he walks, 
they do say, at night, and so do his victims. For he killed many, 
and their bleached bones are still found hereabouts. The dead, 
they say, get up to count them by the witch fires that dance by 
night.” 







184 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


There was a tremor in the man’s voice;, so that it was evident 
that he l)clieved wliat he said. ]\Iildred gave a cry of fright. 

But tliese tales are not true/” said IMrs. Bilkingtoii;, calmly. 

Oh, if it were but the dead who troubled us, life would be very 
easy. The dead sleep — they disturb no one.” 

She could not altogether ridt herself, however, of an uncanny 
feeliug which crept over her, especially as strange gleams of light 
shot out of the darkness or through the crannies of the ruined 


walls. 


See, mamma dear, those are the* witch fires," (piavered poor 
iM i hired. 

“ No, dear; they are hut the phosphorescent lights from some 
marshy land, perhaps.” 

But, madam, my neighbor Lenoir," broke in the man, has 
seen in this very place shapes crowned with llanies, and with 
11a mes bursting out of the e}’e sockets.” 

I ])ray you, do not terrify^ the child," said INfrs. Bilkington, 
for she felt the tremor which passed over IMildred's frame as she 
clung close to her. After that the man was silent and went on 
swinging his lantern, so as to throw as much light as possible on 
the ruins, and presently they were on the high-road, with the 
circus tents of the Great World Show in full view, showing white 
through the darkness. 

It was dithcult for them to thread their way cautiouslv amon<r 
the tents to the stalls of the animals, where they had been told 
Pierrette was lodged. At last they came to that where the ele- 
phant had his quarters, and saw the prodigious beast, evidently 
asleep, resting after the fatigues of the performance. 

Here they found, too, the cot of a hoy. Not he 7 ' hoy, as ^frs. 
Ihlkington saw, with a fresh pang of disappointment. At first 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


185 


the lad was alarmed at their appearance, and would have cried 
out had not ^Irs. Pilkington put her finger to her lips. 

'' 1 thought as YOU was spooks,’' he said, tremulously. 

'' Listen,” said Mrs. Pilkington, sitting down on the edge of 
the bed. We are no spooks. We have come all the way from 
America to look for — ” 

“Pierrette!” interrupted the boy. “Then it wasn t a fairy 



“ ^ I pray you, do not terrify the child/ said Mrs. Pilldnyton.” 


tale after all. He’s got a real mother— grander than mademoi- 
selle or any of them. A regular topper.” 

And you must help me,” said IMrs. Pilkington, with her 
ready tact, laying her pink palm gently on the boy’s rough hand. 
“ First, by letting me know where to find my son, and next by 
keeping it secret that I came here at all. Will you do those two 

things for me ? ” 

“ You l)ct ! ” cried Victor de l\reron, alias John Jones. 


180 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


“ I'ierrette, he’s not ’ere. He’s sick, he is, and the doctor he 
come and made the boss take him away to another tent over there. 
He said he ’ad oughter be quiet.” 

Over there ? ” repeated Mrs. Pilkington, inquiringly. 

Johnny gave her as minute directions as he could, adding that 
if she didn’t find the ])lace, to send '' that cove with the lantern ” 
hack for him and he’d be with them in two minutes — just as soon 
as he got dressed. 

Pierrette, he was real good to me, he was. I got sick first,” 
went on the boy. I like Pierrette first-rate. All the folks pretty 
mucli do, except mehbe the boss and mademoiselle. And as for 
the animals ! My stars ! he can manage them like as if he’d been 
a tamer all his life.” 

You’re a good lad,” said Mrs. Pilkington, pleased by his 
praise of her son, anti if things come right, you will be remem- 
])cred. What’s your name ? ” 

Tlie lad hesitated. 

Victor de Micron, the acrobat, who climbs as ’igh as the 
towers of Xotre Dame or the steeple of St. Paul’s, and turns 
somersaults up there.” 

^Irs. Pilkington shuddered. 

It is tempting Providence,” she exclaimed. 

Tliat ain’t my real name though. I’m jest Johnny Jones, 
from ^Iarylel)one. ]\fy father he was a huckster and I ran away 
to join this show, and I’ve been precious sorry since.” . 

Be a friend to my hoy and to me, and you won’t find us un- 
grateful,” said Mrs. Pilkington, as she passed out of the door, 
leaving the hoy so excited that sleep was banished, and golden 
visions danced before his eves. 

She’s most as grand as the queen up there to AYindsor,” he 


THE PILKINQTON HEIR. 


187 


thought. I seed her once when she was a drivin’ with the king. 
Only this one’s a lieap better lookin’.” 

^leanwhile, Mrs. Pilkington had made her way, followed by 
]\[ildred and the gaping rustic, to the tent where her son lay upon 
a cot, a pale and emaciated figure, yet which she recognized at 
once as that of her own boy. She had never for a moment doubted 
his identity, and now as he lay in that deep sleep of exhaustion, 
the resemblance to his father struck her more forcibly than ever, 
especially as his father had looked upon that sad day when he 
had been brought home to the Manor with the repose of death 
upon him, the blue eyes closed, and the fair hair brushed back 
from the temples. 

She motioned to the others to remain without and went in 
alone at first. She knelt softly down by the bed, fearing to wake 
him too suddenly, while her tears fell fast on his thin and wasted 
hands. Sometimes he muttered in his sleep, but she could catch 
no word. She touched him lightly at last, laying her hand on his 
forehead. 

Wilfrid,” she said. He started. She almost feared she had 
been imprudent. 

]\rother ! ” he said, softly, but with an infinite tenderness 
in the word. 

Then he added : 

“ I knew vou would come — some time.” 

He put his hand into hers, and with a sigh of perfect satis- 
faction, turned over on the pillow and went to sleep. So quietly 
do the great crises of life come and go for the most part. She sat 
by him, with a deep contentment upon her, bidding Mildred to 
enter quietly and the man to sit down upon a bench outside. She 
would willingly have sat there all night, but she knew she must 


188 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


not venture. Slie was tliankful wlien Wilfrid woke again. Tlien 
she said to him : 

J must go now, my love. Tell no one that J have been here. 
1 will move heaven and earth to take you back with me to 
America.” 

He nodded. 

I have been ill,” he said. Fever, I heard them say, but I 
am better now. Good-by, mother.” 

All hesitation in saluting her thus had vanished with his ill- 
ness. It seemed as if in it had been swallowed all the miser- 
able ])ast. The mother, seeing a bright s])ot burning in his cheek, 
took her leave. 

llest (|uiet, love,” she said, kissing his forehead. All will 
now be well, please God.” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


180 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

FURTHER PROGRESS. 

Next morning Mrs. Pilkington took the diligence to Paris, 
accompanied by Mildred, whom she was to leave at the convent 
there for a time, and in order to see the great lawyer, Maitre 
Arpin, who had been recommended to her by the Commissary of 
Police. She had seen Mother Margaret, and it was agreed that if 
the lawyer thought well of the proposal, Hobson and his wife. 
Flora, who was usually inyisible, should be' summoned to con- 
front the mother and the Superior and to answer the most search- 
ing questions. ■ 

It was a busy, hustling scene as the diligence drew up to re- 
ceive passengers, the guard standing respectfully watching to 
help them in, while the driver was busy with the horses. The 
usual loungers stood near, and the passers-hy turned their heads 
to look into the stable yard and see the start, always a pleasur- 
able excitement. The postilion presently cracked his whip and 
away they went. Under other circumstances Mrs. Pilkington 
would have found the journey a pleasant one. It gave her an 
opportunity to see the villages and towns — many of them world- 
famous and marked as by a trail of glory, as she observed to 
]\Iildred. But, indeed, the sad traces of the recent revolution, 
which Napoleon’s strong hand had put down, were everywhere 
to he seen. Mrs. Pilkington’s thoughts would revert to her own 
great anxiety, so that she could not enjoy the journey, and Mil- 


11)0 


THE p:lkington heir. 


(Ired, depressed by the ap})roachiiig leave-taking, was silent for 
the most part. 

^ ^ ^ ^ 

Wlien ]^[rs. Pilkington found herself seated in the great man's 
office the following day, it was with a beating heart and throbbing 
nerves. Her life had been a sheltered one, passed chiefly in the 
rural calm of Kingsbridge, and she had had but little contact 
either with the world at large (save in so far as she had mingled 
with the stream of fashion) or with the world of business. The 
lawyer appeared, courteous, reticent, professional to the last de- 
gree, with piercing, dark eyes, a pointed beard, coal-black hair, 
which matched his attire of scrupulous black, relieved by the 
whitest of ties. 

She was amazed by the acuteness of his intellect, his instan- 
taneous gras]) of the whole subject, and his actual turning of 
her mind inside out, as it were. His questions were few, pointed, 
and immensely deferential. His terms would have staggered any 
less eager or less wealthy client. But his manner inspired con- 
fidence. It said plainly : 

I have been the leader in many battles. T have been van- 
quished but in few. Leave the fight to me, and do you, the weak 
one, sit down and fold your hands, till I call upon you for action.” 
^Irs. Pilkington, leaving his office, went to the convent to see 
lUildred, and who was, needless to say, very lonesome. The bare 
room, so simply furnished, enlivened only by the painted portraits 
of saints or dignitaries of the Church, said plainly: Here you 

come to learn self-denial, poverty of spirit, evangelical simplicity. 
At least, the lesson is always before you.” 

^lildred had never known any nuns before, and the severity 
of their habit alarmed her. She had not yet learned to realize 



‘ It will not he for long, dear. The lawyer has given me great hopes.’” 


192 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


the simple, uuatrected gayety, the absence of austerity, the prac- 
tical and genial conimon sense which characterize nuns as a class, 
and in which they often dilt'er, be it said without olfense, from 
certain pious persons of the world. 

Mrs. Pilkington took leave of Mildred, embracing her tenderly 
and whispering: 

It will not be for long, dear. The lawyer has given me great 
hopes, and soon we shall all be returning home together. Mean- 
time, study hard, and especially devote yourself to French.” 

Mrs. Pilkington’s return journey in the diligence was vastly 
more pleasant than the former one had been. She could smile 
at the inevitable fat gentleman who snored and the inevitable 
thin lady who fussed. She accepted babies and bundles with a 
resignation so rare that it called for remark from some of the 
gentlemen passengers. She took note of many of the beauteous 
scenes which she before disregarded, and promised herself the 
pleasure of showing them to AVilfrid some day. 

She called at the Foundling Hospital on the very morning of 
her return and sat long in conference with Mother Margaret. 

Come now, dear ^frs. Pilkington,” said the genial Superior, 
“ and take a little luncheon, which a Sister has prepared for 
you.” 

Oh, this is too kind,” said the lady, following her hostess 
through a corridor of surpassing cleanliness to a pretty room 
with cool, green blinds and palms and creeping plants in abund- 
ance, making a very labyrintb of greenery. 

^^Tbis is where Father Christian takes his meals,” said the 
Superior. ^MVe call it the priest’s room.” 

How pretty it is ! But then, everything is charming here,” 
exclaimed Mrs. Pilkington; ^^so cool, so clean, so peaceful. 


TEE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


193 


Mother, how calm you are, and what good you are doing, working 
for heaven, while we are all working for ourselves/^ 

Some of you people of the world will be very high in 
heaven,” said Mother Margaret. Our state is more perfect, but 
some of your lives are marked at every step by perfection.” 

They were interrupted by the arrival of Sister Josephine, who 
served a charming little meal. The Superior sat by and conversed 
with her guest, though she did not join in the meal, and the de- 
tails of the coming interview with the Hobsons, husband and 
wife, were very freely discussed, Mrs. Pilkington giving the 
Superior a synopsis of the advice given by the lawyer. 


194 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


ClIAPTEH 


IN WniCir MR. GRAYSTOXE MEETS ARTHUR RILKINGTON AT '' THE 
]\[ERRY DOGS AND JIM HOLLIS OVERHEARS A CONVERSATION. 

The coach which ran between All)any and Xew York de- 
posited Arthur Pilkiiigton some weeks after Mrs. Pilkington's ar- 
rival in Paris at an inn contiguous to the Manor, which rejoiced in 
tlie name of The Merry Dogs.'" This place of entertainment 
had, like many others of its class, changed its name more than 
once, as the fortunes of king or colony had been uppermost. The 
present landlord, who in the fourth generation from the original 
proprietor held the place, had deemed it prudent, the issue of 
the war of 1812 being doubtful when he came into possession, to 
give it such an appellation as should satisfy all parties, or at 
least offend none. 

lie was of that race of Bonifaces frequently to he met with in 
song and story, who have vanished from the things that be. He 
had grown very fat and very important and scarcely deigned a 
word to ordinarv customers. But Mr. Gravstone, of The Home- 
stead,’’ own uncle to Madam Pilkington, was a person to l)e treated 
with consideration. And he it was who occupied the parlor, 
awaiting that very stage-coach which brought Arthur Pilkington 
to the door. 

For the two were to meet by appointment, and ^Ir. Graystone 
in particular was very anxious to get it over and to see the last 
of that scoundrel, Arthur Pilkington. 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


195 


(( 


The landlord ushered the first-comer into a room where there 
was a fire, with the remark : 

The air is chill, sir. The fire will be pleasant to your honor.” 
Ah, yes, quite so,” said Mr. Gray stone, abstractedly, placing 
himself with his back to the stove, so that he very nearly set his 
coat-tails afire. The landlord put his head in the door to the an- 
noyance of Mr. Graystone, who thought he had got rid of him. 

I would respectfully advise you, sir,” he said, “ that you are 
a little, just a little, too near the heat. I thousfht I had smelled 
burning cloth, sir, but perhaps not; it might have been but a 
dish clout in the kitchen.” 

Mr. Graystone made an impatient gesture, discovering as he 
did so that the left coat-tail of his best bottle-green coat was Ijadly 
scorched and all but blazing. 


I perceive you are right, Bradley,” he said, stiffly. I have 
approached too close to the stove.” 

A little, just a little,” said Bradley, deprecatingly. 

No, sir; much too close, very much too close,” cried Mr. 
Graystone, losing patience. Another instant and I had been 
ablaze.” 

Oh, no, your honor; surely not so bad as that, sir,” cried 


Brad lev. 

But 1 tell you it is, sir,” cried the now irate l\Ir. Graystone. 

Look at my bottle-green coat, sir, just fresh from London, if 
you doubt my word.” 

Doubt your word !” said the landlord, glad of an opportunity 
to shift his ground. Far be it from me to doubt your word, your 
honor.” 


And I wish you were far enougli from me,” said the gen- 
tleman to himself, as he silently glowered at his injured garment, 


196 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


and at the stove which had done it^ breaking out upon the land- 
lord in a new quarter. 

^^You don’t need a fire here at this time of year. Bless my 
soul, sir! what do vou want with a fire in October? That is how 
I came to scorch my broadcloth.” 

But I told vour honor there was a fire there,” said the luck- 
less innkeeper, and you seemed glad of it, sir, and w'ent straight 
to the stove. I thought your honor was warming himself.” 

And I thought there was no fire in your cursed stove, sir ! ” 
cried Mr. Graystone. 

But, with all respect, your honor was standing there as 
gentlemen does that w'ants to warm themselves.” 

]\[ere force of habit,” cried Mr. Graystone ; but go away. 
1 must really ask you to go away. I have much to think of — much 
to think of indeed.” 

Bradley vanished and almost immediately after Mr. Arthur 
Morehead Pilkington was announced. So old and careworn did 
lie appear that Mr. Graystone would scarcely have recognized 
him. The elder man stood still, returning the other’s salute as 
formally as was possible. Pilkington made a show of inquiring 
as to the health of liis kinswoman. 

You will oblige me infinitely by proceeding at once to busi- 
ness,” said Mr. Graystone. I am constrained to remind you 
that my time is limited.” 

You are impatient, sir,” said Pilkington, with a sneer, and 
1 was about to confess that in another sense I am orrowing: im- 

O o 

patient, too.” 

‘^You are alluding now, I presume, to some claim of yours 
upon the Pilkington estate ? ” 

Preciselv.” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


197 


Mr. Graystone sat down, and, leaning back in his chair, said 
slowly : 

I have had recent advices from France.” 

Oh, indeed. 1 trust my fair kinswoman is enjoying the 
Continent,” said Pilkington. 

She has been kept busy by matters of importance, one of 
which is the exposure of the impostor Hobson.” 

Pilkington was a man of nerve, and he showed it by the man- 
ner in which he received this communication. 

‘Hleally?” he said, raising his eyebrows. did not follow 
the affair verv eloselv, but I had been led to believe that it was 
quite impossible to upset his claim.” 

Nevertheless it has been done, and my niece’s solicitor, one 
of the most eminent members of the French bar, is in a position 
to cause your arrest and that of your accomplices.” 

Arthur Pilkington sprang to his feet in pretended anger, but 
he betrayed himself by the furtive glances he cast at window and 
door, as though he feared the presence of police officers. 

Be orood enough to resume vour seat,” said ]\[r. Gravstone. 

You are dealing just now with a gentleman, and not with a 
police agent.” 

Rut you have dared to make an accusation against me,” 
cried Pilkington. You have gone so far as to use the ugly term of 
accomplices. Have a care,*Mr. Graystone. Your age is not suf- 
ficient to protect you, and gentlemen can still obtain satisfaction 
with their swords.” 

So I believe,” said ^Ir. Graystone, surveying his companion 
coolly, ^H)ut we are not just now discussing the doings of gen- 
tlemen. AYe are touching upon certain very questionable affairs, 
very far removed, indeed, from the pale of gentility.” 


198 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Ilis voice had grown sterner as he spoke, and he again pointed 
to a chair. 

Sit down, sir,’’ he said, and let me put the case before 
you. When I have finished, I think you will see that your wisest 
course is to avail yourself of the generosity of my niece. From 
respect to the name you bear slie would prefer to avoid publicity 
and to save you from arrest.” 

Pilkington gave a sarcastic laugh. 

She is most considerate,” he said ; but the bird would have 
to be bagged before the gentle lady gives it release.” 

A truce to 5^our folly, sir, lest my patience give out, and I 
send you to the common jail. For I disagree with Mrs. Pilking- 
ton altogether. I hold that you have so long disgraced the name 
that the family owe it to their own honor to expose you, and make 
pid)lic your crimes.” 

Pilkington was livid with rage, with fear, even with a kind 
of shame, which occasionally beset him, the last trace, perhaps, 
of his gentle birth. Mr. Graystone then put before him clearly 
and briefly the various links in that strong chain of evidence. 
The exposure of the man Hobson, who, in the interview with the 
Superior of the hospital and Mrs. Pilkington (during which he 
was cross-examined by the great lawyer), completely broke down. 
Correct upon most details, he wavered over the color of the hair, 
contradicted himself, admitting in the end that he did not know 
its color. That was but the first of his admissions. He finally de- 
posed that he had been employed by one vSarah Slater, who had 
paid him a monthly sum, to be continued as long as the boy re- 
mained in his charge. He declared that the woman had so ter- 
rorized him that he dared not allow the lad out of his sight. 

Well ! ” cried Arthur Pilkington, with a final effort to brazen 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


199 


it out. I should like to be informed, sir, what the plottings of 
the Hobson fellow with one Sarah Slater has to do with me.'’ 

]\lr. Graystone was fairly aghast at his effrontery, and Pilk- 
ington, pursuing the advantage, continued : 

1 warn you not to go too far, respected gentleman though 
you be. There is such a thing as conspiracy, Scpiire Graystone, 



“ There is another who offers evidence to ohiain pardon for hersetf'' 


and it would be highly convenient for you all to trump up an heir 
and to connect me with the cock and bull story of his abduction." 

You impudent scoundrel ! " cried Mr. Graystone, springing 
to his feet and grasping his stick in a transport of rage, so lhat 
the other cowered in his chair. “ I have a mind to thrash you 
where you sit." 

Recovering himself, however, and wiping his forehead with 
his silk handkerchief, he exclaimed : 

T forgot myself quite, but really this dirty business had 





200 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


much better have been left to the police. An honest man soils 
his hands with it.^^ 

Pilkington, still nervous, sat quiet. He was hoping against 
hope that Sarah Slater had kept her own counsel, for he knew that 
she could, if she wished, extricate him from this predicament. But 
he was also aware that she had been very angry at certain trickery 
of his and that she had been curiously impressed by her interview 
with Mrs. Pilkington, returning to it again and again, now in a 
furious burst of hate, now in an attempt at self-justification, and 
again with something like remorse. The simjfie power of good- 
ness had appealed to some latent depth in this hardened woman's 
nature. 

Sarah Slater gave the police considerable trouble,’^ resumed 
Mr. Graystone. She could not, in fact, be discovered anywhere, 
or by any one.’’ 

She is a trump,” thought Pilkington, but he felt that his 
best policy was silence. 

So that the evidence of Hobson was worthless, or all but 
worthless.” 

A gleam came into Pilkington’s eyes. 

There were some other pitiful confederates,” said ^Ir. Gray^ 
stone, but they dared not speak for fear of this terrible Sarah. 
No power could induce them so to do.” 

‘‘And then?” said Arthur Pilkington, leaning forward, his 
face eager. 

Then,” said Mr. Graystone, Sarah Slater appeared one 
day in my niece’s room at the hotel and offered to prove every 
item of Hobson’s confession, to substantiate young Pilkington’s 
claim, and, in short, to restore the heir to his property.” 
Pilkington let his head fall forward on his hands. 


THE PILKINQTON HEIR, 


201 


It was a curious interview, I am told. The woman made 
no terms, left everything to my niece's generosity, and said she 
did not care even if she had to go to prison. She made one con- 
dition, which Mrs. Pilkington refused to accept, that you should 
go to tlie penitentiary, or to the gallows, if possible.’’ 

The serpent ! ” cried Arthur Pilkington, reckless now of 
self-betrayal. When she had taken every farthing from me.” 
There is another who offers evidence in order to obtain par- 
don for herself, one Lucy Lawless, late nurse in Mrs. Pilkington’s 
service, who actually stole the child, with the aid of a worthless 
fellow named Hollis, whom she afterward married, and who 
stands convicted, like yourself, of this crime.” 

While these two talked neither had observed the latticed 
window with its hanging curtains. Therefore they did not guess 
that they had a listener, and one whose ears were sharpened by 
self-interest. Jim Hollis had been following his whilom master 
from place to place, always in the hope of getting some further 
instalment of the long-delayed reward. And, having learned that 
he and Mr. Graystone were to meet at the inn, had concealed him- 
self behind the curtains in a recess of the window, and had so 
heard every word. He had but one thought now, to effect his 
escape and rejoin his dog. Bouncer, who waited for him without. 

So you see, sir,” concluded Mr. Graystone, that a con- 
fession from you is not precisely necessary, the more so that you 
have, in due legal form, relinquished all claim upon the estate on 
the finding of the heir.” 

Pilkington muttered a curse as he saw how he had overreached 
himself. 

"'But,” went on ;Mr. Graystone, "your confession would 
facilitate matters — make assurance doubly sure.” 


TUP. PILKINGTON HEIR. 




Then you sliall never get it/’ cried Pilkington, springing 
to liis feet with sudden passion. I, who have been driven from 
post to pillar, treated as a pariah, scarce fit to wipe my feet on a 
Pilkington mat, shall I aid this haughty woman to keep possession 
of the property by the production of the heir, real or bogus, which- 
ever he be ! Shall I help her, who has been my life-long enemy, 
to attain her end? I tell you, no ; I tell you, no. Could I prevent 
her, I would gladly do so.” 

Ilis excitement was such that the sweat stood out upon his 
forehead in great drops. Something like pity was in Mr. Gray- 
stone’s mind as he looked at this wreck of a life, once of sufficiently 
fair promise, wrecked, as he thought, by the absence of moral 
principle or religious conviction. 

I understand you, then, to refuse my request ? ” he said, 
when he had given the man time to recover himself somewhat. He 
was leaning on the back of a chair, pale and exhausted. 

I do refuse,” he said, throwing hack his head, with some- 
thing that was almost pitiful in its futile despair. 

I fear it will, then, be ni}" painful duty to put the police upon 
your track,” Mr. Graystone said, averting his eyes, for the sight 
was painful. ^ 

But if I follow the example of the virtuous Sarah, or that 
other fair conspirator, who has sold her own husband, and tell 
what I know, how shall it he then? ” 

He gave a cvnical laugh. 

Shall we then put this — ah — crime upon the shoulders of 
Jim Hollis and let him hang, if it he a hanging matter, or he 
transported beyond the seas, or imprisoned for life ? ” 

Jim shivered in his place of concealment. He could hear, 
whining without, the one true friend his evil life had ever allowed 


THE PILEINGTON HEIR. 


203 


him to make^ liis dog Bomicer. Mr. Graystone was silent. Jim 
softly undid one of the bolts as he heard his late master begin to 
speak. Then he undid the other. For the men were too earnest in 
their discourse to notice anything beyond it, and Pilkington had 
shifted his position so as to be no longer facing the window. They 
were in darkness, too, save for the glow from the door of the stove, 
JMr. Graystone having impatiently refused candles when the land- 
lord had offered them. 

Yes,^’ went on Arthur Pilkington, let us whitewasli tlie 
family name. My proud lady would not wish it tarnished. It 
can be done by the hanging of this Hollis. Hanging is too good 
for him. Did he not tempt a most trustworthy young woman to 
betray her mistress? Did he not help her to steal the lad and lend 
himself a willing instrument to the one and onlv Sarah Slater? 
Was he not in my employ? Therefore, let us hang Jim Hollis as 
high as may be, if the law allows.’’ 

Jim, who in the middle of this speech put one leg out of the 
window, at the end of it put out the other, landing safely beside 
Bouncer, who rejoiced to see him. Then he softly closed the win- 
dow after him. He glanced for an instant out of the darkness 
at the indistinct figures of the two men, hissing between his teeth : 
^Hlang Jim Hollis when you catch him, and as for you, my 
fine master, may I live to get you hanged ! ” 

He had not waited for j\Ir. Graystone’s answer, which came 
short and stern : 

Have done, sir. Your cynicism revolts me. Tf the master 
villain go free, so, too, shall the tool. And now for your con- 
fession, which must be signed and sealed in the presence of wit- 
nesses.” 

T am becoming quite an adept at the signing of documents,” 


204 


TltK PILKINGTON HEIR. 


said Pilkiiigioii, laughing, as ho seated hiinself to write at tlie 
other’s dietation, and j)roinising to meet Mr. Graystone at his law- 
yer’s next day, for the formal signature, d’his done, lie rose. 

My compliments to my fair cousin,” he said, taking his liat 
and gloves with a jaunty air. ('ompliments and regrets that 
1 have not better ])layed my ])art.” 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


2oa 


CHAPTER XXX. 

IN WHICH JIM HOLLIS DISAPPEARS FROM THE STORY AND THERE IS 
A SENSATION AT THE GREAT WORLD SHOW. 

That night on the wharves, where the tall ships, like shrouded 
figures, showed gray in the mist, a hurrying figure, miserably 
clad, abjectly terrified, sped along, preceded by a dog. It was 
Jim Hollis seeking passage on an outgoing ship, that he might 
leave the port of Xew York forever and put the ocean between 
him and the man whom he feared. 

The horrors of fear, remorse, and loneliness that were in his 
breast, outcast from all, betrayed, rejected, it would be impossible 
to depict. 

Previous to Mr. Graystone’s interview with the villain Pilk- 
ington, a strange occurrence took place at the tents of the Great 
World Show. Hobson had discovered Mrs. Pilkington’s stolen 
visits to the boy, and, as that was before the time of his own con- 
fession, he determined to guard against the possibility of these 
visits being repeated. He had so raved and stormed at Pierrette 
as to cause a relapse of the fever, and he caused him to he moved 
back to his old quarters near the elephant’s stall, where a watch 
could be kept upon him. When Hobson had been subsequently 
brought to bay and had confessed. Father Christian had gone 
with the Commissary of Police to take formal possession of the 
hoy for Mrs. Pilkington, who sat without in the carriage. It 
is easy to imagine the horror of the two men, on reaching the 


206 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


door, to benold the prostrate figure of the boy lying upon the 
floor with the mighty foot of the elephant upon his chest and the 
tremendous form of the beast towering above. Father Christian 
sobbed aloud. 

Is this to be the end of the mother's long agony of waiting ? 
Even the Commissary stood aghast. The animal turned his 
trunk in their direction, as if warning them away. 

The elephant has killed him ! cried the police officer. 

Perhaps our dear boy is not dead,’’ cried the priest, with 
desperate hope. I must give him absolution on the chance. 
Oh, if we could make this savage beast move ! ” 

The priest knelt down, soon to his joy to discover that the 
lad was not dead, though apparently unconscious, his eyes rolling, 
his hands clenched. 

The beast is crushing him,” cried the two men, making 
strenuous etforts to make him move. 

But do as they could, the elephant stood still, his eyes fixed 
upon the boy, his foot still resting on his chest and his trunk 
waving defiance. 

I will call Hobson,” cried the Commissary, disappearing. 
Hobson appeared, much agitated by the Commissary's news. 
This would make complications for him and prol)ably cause the 
mother to proceed against him. He looked in, saw the boy on the 
floor, and broke into a nervous laugh. Then he took from his 
pocket a small red flag and waved it. Instantly the beast removed 
his foot, oh, so gently, retiring a pace or two, and standing with 
lowered head, as if saluting. Father Christian and the Com- 
missary, amazed, raised the lad and laid him on his bed, while 
Hobson explained : 

is the trick the elephant Cosmos was in the habit of per- 







•»^ ^*> — '■tnTtfMri*ifcii - 

A'- -i. 












** The prostrate figure of the boy lying upon the floor, with the mighty 

foot of the elephant on his chest.” 




208 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


forming with the boy in the rescue scene. But 1 can not imagine 
for w'hat reason Pierrette, I mean, the young gentleman, has 
done it here and now.” 

Johnny Jones, who just then came running in, threw light on 
the situation. Pierrette had got up in high delirium, walking 
about and terrifying his companion by his wild talk and glaring 
eyes. He had run toward the open door, which J ohnny had barely 
time to secure, saying that he was going to his mother. Then, re- 
sisting all attempts to make him return to bed, he had wandered 
at last into the elephant’s stall, where he had swayed and fallen. 
The animal, seeing him upon the floor, had either supposed that 
the performance was to begin or had had an idea of keeping Am 
safe. Johnny had run for help, and in the meantime the others 
had arrived. Needless to say that Cosmos after that was a greater 
liero than ever. ' Every visitor to the circus heard that tale with 
additions. It doubled Mr. Hobson’s receipts in the nick of time, 
for the attendance had begun to grow slack through the want of 
new attractions. And so, in this man’s case, wickedness was re- 
warded. 

As for the other conspirators, Arthur Pilkington, on the eve 
of his departure for India, wrote his kinswoman a characteristic 
letter of farewell, throwing something of the blame on herself for 
the failure of his life and referring to those long past evenings 
at the Belvedere Club House, most fashionable of resorts, when 
^lary Clinton had made him feel his inferiority to his cousin. 

And so farewell Cousin Mary Pilkington,” concluded this 
epistle. When this reaches you, I shall have gone out of your 
life forever.” 

Mary Pilkington crumpled the paper in her hand with some- 
thing of anger* but j3resently her eyes grew soft at the thought 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


309 


of those evenings long ago and of her dead husband, her first and 
only love. 

No one could ever have caused him to commit an unwortli} 
act/’ she thought, proudly. The soul of honor, the knightly 
gentleman, the true Christian. As for the rest, I despise it.” 
Sarah Slater disappeared completely, even from the horizon 
of the police. Some said she had mended her way of life; others 
tliat her sinister figure and repulsive face were still to be seen in 
a dingy thoroughfare of London. Lucy Lawless lived in great 
poverty and destitution until aided by the bounty of lier generous 
and forgiving mistress, who would never, however, see her face. 
,..nd Jim Hollis was found l)y tlie river police, drowned, in an 
attempt to board an outward bound brig. 



210 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


CONCLUSION. 

IN WHICH ALL GOES AS MEKKY AS A MAIUHAGE BELL AND THE HEIR 

COMES TO HIS OWN. 


Mrs. UiLKiNGTON carried out her iuteiitiou of taking her boy 
to Paris, where both were anxious to see ^lildred, who was in a 
fever of impatience for their coming. Mother and son together 
visited tlie churches and galleries, discoursing of the works of art 
in each and pointing out those which j)leased them best. They 
lingered for a month or so in that wondrous capital, Mildred 
enjoying herself to the utmost; but in the heart of mother and 
son was the unspoken longing for America. The boy sighed for 

the beautiful home of his dreams, of which he had been so long 

0 

deprived, and the mother was eager to show him its beauties. 

They stopped again at Marseilles to bid good-by to Mother 
^fargaret and Father Christian, while AYilfrid went to see the 
animals and any others who had been kind to him at the Great 
World Show. There was loudly expressed grief at this departure ; 
the mustang riders, men and women, the clown, and even Far- 
narelli herself expressed regret. Cosmos seemed to understand 
that his friend was going, and put his trunk about him as if to 
keep him, while the tame bear rubbed his hairy head for the last 
time against Pierrette, and the dog professor showed such grief 
that, if TIobson would have sold him, he would have gone home 
to the Manor to make old Carlo jealous. But the professor had 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


211 


a new value in the showman’s eyes. He could now be exhibited as 
the loved and loving playmate of the Pilkington heir. 

Xeedless to describe the home-coming nor the gathering of 
friends that took place there shortly. Xot a brilliant dinner 
party this time — that came later, but the gathering of Father 
Aubril and the pedler, ]\Iolly Heegan, and i\Iary Anne and Johnny 
Jones, who had been brought to America by the Pilkingtons and 



^'Mother and son together visited the galleries.'’' 


sent to scliool, with the pros])ect of s]>ending his holidays at the 
]\Ianor, and Farmer Keronac and his wife, and i\lr. (Iraystone. 
Xot to speak of Carlo, already devoted to his young master, and 
the two puppies from the Keronac farm, now grown great dogs 
and honored members of the Pilkington kennels. They rejoiced 
to see their little playmate, though they recked not of his changed 
fortunes, and were just the same simple, affectionate friends as in 
his forlorn davs. 



212 


THE PILKINGTON HEIR. 


Mary Anne was ever so little jealous on account of her favorite 
Mildred; but Mrs. Pilkington’s affection for the girl was only 
less than that she felt for her own Wilfrid. Whereas to Mildred 
it was joy unspeakable to have this dear companion with her and 
to show him the beauties of the place and to ride out on their 
ponies together. 

The festival was a great success, the table laid out on the ter- 
race, on the self-same spot where Mrs. ITlkington had taken her 
last su})per with her husband ; for it was summer again. They 
all sat down at table, irrespective of class. Mr. Graystone pro- 
posed a toast to which Father Aubril responded, and after the 
banquet a letter was composed to send off on the instant to Father 
Christian and Mother Margaret, telling them how much they 
were missed. 

But when it was all over Mrs. Pilkington took a walk in the 
moonlight with her boy, leading him in afterward to that boudoir 
where she had sat desolate on that night long ago, under the 
shadow of a coming tragedy. She told him more, as they sat 
there, than she had ever done, of his father, whom he resembled 
more and more every day, so that every friend of the family was 
struck with the likeness. She unfastened a miniature from her 
neck to show him, and togetlier they gazed at it, the mother say- 
ing softly; 

1 hope he is looking down upon us and rejoicing that my 
son has come back to his mother and the heir to the Pilking-ton 
estate.’’ 


PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 


Standard Catholic Books 

PUBLISHED BY 

BENZIGER BROTHERS, 

CINCINNATI: NEW YORK: Chicago: 

343 Main St. 36 and 38 Barclay St. 211-213 Madison St. 


DOCTRINE, INSTRUCTION, DEVOTION. 

ABANDONMENT; or, Absolute Surrender of Self to Divine Providence, 
Rev. J. P. Caussade, SJ. net, o 40 

ADORATION OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT. Tesniere. Cloth, 

net, I 25 

ALPHONSUS LIGUORI, ST. Complete Ascetic Works. 22 vols., each, 

net, i 25 

ANALYSIS OF THE GOSPELS. Rev. L. A. Lambert, LL.D. net, i 25 
APOSTLES’ CREED, THE. Rev. Muller, C.SS.R. || net, i 10 

ART OF PROFITING BY OUR FAULTS. Rev. J. Tissox. net, o 40 

BIBLE, THE HOLY. o 80 

BIRTHDAY SOUVENIR. Mrs. A. E. Buchanan. o 50 

BLESSED VIRGIN, THE. Rev. Dr. Keller. o 75 

BLOSSOMS OF THE CROSS. Emily Giehrl. i 25 

BOOK OF THE PROFESSED. 

Vol. I. net, 0 75 

Vol. II. net, o 60 

Vol. III. net, o 60 

BOYS’ AND GIRL.S’ MISSION BOOK. By the Redemptorist Fathers. 0 35 
Per 100, 17 50 

CATECHISM EXPLAINED, THE. Spirago-Clarke. net, 2 50 

CATHOLIC BELIEF. Faa di Bruno. 

Paper, *0.25; 100 copies, 15 00 

Cloth. *0.50; 25 copies, 7 50 

CATHOLIC CEREMONIES and Explanation of the Ecclesiastical Year. 
Abbe Durand. 

Paper, *0.30; 25 copies, 4 50 

Cloth, *0.60; 25 copies, 9 00 

CATHOLIC PRACTICE AT CHURCH AND AT HOME. Rev. Alex. L. 
A. Klauder. 

Paper, *0.30; 25 copies, 4 50 

Cloth, *0.60; 25 copies, 9 00 

CATHOLIC TEACHING FOR CHILDREN. Winifrid Wray. o 40 

CATHOLIC WORSHIP. Rev. R. Brennan, LL.D. 

Paper, *0.15; 100 copies, 10 00 

Cloth, *0.25; 100 copies, 17 00 

CHARACTERISTICS OF TRUE DEVOTION. Rev. N. Grou, S.J. net, o 75 
CHARITY THE ORIGIN OF EVERY BLESSING. o 60 

CHILD OF MARY. Prayer-Book for Children. o 60 

CHILD’S PRAYER-BOOK OF THE SACRED HEART. o 20 

CHRISTIAN FATHER. Right Rev. W. Cramer. . 

Paper, *0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 

Cloth, *0.40; 25 copies, 6 00 


X 


CHRISTIAN MOTHER. Right Rev. W. Cramer. 

I’aper, *0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 

Cloth, *0.40; 25 copies, 6 00 

CHURCH AND HER ENEMIES. Rev. M. Muller, C.SS.R. H i 10 
COMEDY OF ENGLISH PROTESTANTISM. A. F. Marshall, net, o 75 

COMPLETE OFFICE OF HOLY WEEK. o 50 

100 copies, 25 00 

COMMUNION. 1 Per 100, net, 3 50 

CONFESSION. I Edited by Rev. John J. Nash, D.D. Per 100, net, 3 50 

CONFIRMATION. ( Per 100, net, 3 50 

COUNSELS OF ST. ANGELA to Her Sisters in Religion. ’ net, 0 25 
DEVOTION OF THE HOLY ROSARY and the Five Scapulars. |1 net, o 75 

DEVOTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR THE SICK-ROOM. Krebs, C.SS.R. 
Cloth, net, i 00 

DEVOTIONS AND PRAYERS OF ST. ALPHONSUS. A Complete 
Prayer-book. ti 00 

DEVOTIONS TO THE SACRED HEART for the First Friday of Every 
Month. By Pere Huguet. o 40 

DEVOUT INSTRUCTIONS, GOFFINE’S. i.oo; 25 copies, 17 50 


DIGNITY AND DUTY OF THE PRIEST; or. Selva, a Collection of Mate- 
rial for Ecclesiastical Retreats. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. net, i 25 


DIGNITY, AUTHORITY, DUTIES OF PARENTS, ECCLESIASTICAL 


AND CIVIL POWERS. By Rev. M. Muller, C.SS.R. 


II net, I 40 


DIVINE OFFICE: Explanations of the Psalms and Canticles. By St. Al- 
phonsus DE Liguori. net, i 25 

EPISTLES AND GOSPELS. 0.25; 100 copies, 1900 

EUCHARIST AND PENANCE. Rev. M. Muller, C.SS.R. || net, i 10 

EUCHARISTIC CPIRIST, Reflections and Considerations on the Blessed 
Sacrament. Rev. A. Tesniere. net, i 00 

EUCHARISTIC GEMS. A Thought About the Most Blessed Sacrament for 
Every Day in the Year. By Rev. L. C. Coelenbier. o 75 

EXPLANATION OF COMMANDMENTS, ILLUSTRATED. i 00 

EXPLANATION OF THE APOSTLES’ CREED, ILLUSTRATED. i 00 

EXPLANATION OF THE BALTIMORE CATECHISM OF CHRISTIAN 
DOCTRINE. Rev. Th. L. Kinkead. fiet, i 00 

EXPLANATION OF THE COMMANDMENTS, Precepts of the Church. 
Rev. M. Muller, C.SS.R. || net, 1 lo 

EXPLANATION OF THE GOSPELS and of Catholic Worship. Rev. L. A. 
Lambert. 

Paper, *0.30; 25 copies, 4 50 

Cloth, *0.60; 25 copies, 9 00 

EXPLANATION OF THE HOLY SACRAMENTS, ILLUSTRATED, i 00 

EXPLANATION OF THE HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS. Rev. M. 
V. Cochem. I 25 

EXPLANATION OF THE OUR FATHER AND THE HAIL MARY. 
Rev. R. Brennan, LL.D. o 75 

EXPLANATION OF THE PRAYERS AND CEREMONIES OF THE 
MASS, ILLUSTRATED. Rev. D. I. Lanslots, O.S.B. i 25 

EXPLANATION OF THE SALVE REGINA. Liguori. 0 75 

EXTREME UNCTION. 

100 copies, 

FAMILIAR EXPLANATION OF CATHOLIC DOCTRINE. 

Muller, C.SS.R. 

FIRST AND GREATEST COMMANDMENT. 

C.SS.R. 

FIRST COMMUNICANT’S MANUAL. 

100 copies. 


0 10 
6 00 

Rev. M. 

1 00 

By Rev. M. Muller, 
II net, I 40 

to 50 
25 00 


FLOWERS OF THE PASSION. Thoughts of St. Paul of the Cross. By 


Rev. Louis Th. de Jesus-Agonisant. *0.50; per 100 copies. 


30 00 


FOLLOWING OF CHRIST. Thomas a Kempis. 

With Reflections, to.so; loo copies, 25 00 

Without Reflections, to.45; 100 copies, 22 50 

Edition de luxe, fi 50 

FOUR LAST THINGS, THE: Death, Judgment, Heaven, Hell. Medita- 
tions. Father M. v. Cochem. Cloth, o 75 

GARLAND OF PRAYER. . With Nuptial Mass. Leather, fo 90 


GENERAL CONFESSION MADE EASY. Rev. A. Konings, C.SS.R. 


Flexible. H0.15; 100 copies, 10 00 

GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. Verheyen, 
O.S.B. net, o 30 

GLORIES OF DIVINE GRACE. Dr. M. J. Scheeben. net, i 50 

GLORIES OF MARY. St. Alphonsus de Liguori. 2 vols., net, 2 50 

GOFFINE’S DEVOUT INSTRUCTIONS. 140 Illustrations. Cloth, i.oo; 
25 copies, 17 so 

GOLDEN SANDS. Little Counsels for the Sanctification and Happiness of 

Daily Life. 

Third Series, o 50 

Fourth Series, o 50 

Fifth Series, . o 50 

GRACE AND THE SACRAMENTS. By Rev. M. Muller, C.SS.R. 

II »et, I 25 

GREAT MEANS OF SALVATION AND OF PERFECTION. St. Al- 
phonsus DE Liguori. net, 1 25 


GREAT SUPPER OF GOD, THE. A Treatise on Weekly Communion. By 
Rev. S. CouBE, S.J. Edited by Rev. F. X. Brady, S.J. Cloth, net, i 00 


GREETINGS TO THE CHRIST-CHILD, a Collection of Poems for the 
Young. Illustrated. 060 

GUIDE TO CONFESSION AND COMMUNION. to 60 

HANDBOOK OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. By S. J. W. Wil- 
MERS. net, I 50 


HAPPY YEAR, A. Abbe Lasausse. net, 1 00 

HEART OF ST. JANE FRANCES DE CHANTAL. Thoughts and Prayers. 
Compiled by the Sisters of the Divine Compassion. net, o 40 

HELP FOR THE POOR SOULS IN PURGATORY. fo 50 

HIDDEN TREASURE: The Value and Excellence of the Holy Mass. By 
St. Leonard of Pt. Maurice. 0 50 

HISTORY OF THE MASS. By Rev. J. O’Brien. net, i 25 

HOLY EUCHARIST. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. The Sacrifice, the 
Sacrament and the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ. Novena to the Holy 
Ghost. net, i 25 

HOLY MASS. By Rev. M. Muller, C.SS.R. || net, i 25 

HOLY MASS. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. net, i 25 

HOW TO COMFORT THE SICK. Rev. Jos. A. Krebs, C.SS.R. Cloth, 

net, I 00 


HOW TO MAKE THE MISSION. By a Dominican Father. Paper, o 10; 

per 100, 5 00 

ILLUSTRATED PRAYER-BOOK FOR CHILDREN, to.25; 100 copies, 17 00 
IMITATION OF CHRIST. See “Following of Christ.” 


IMITATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY. Translated by Mrs. A. 
R. Bennett-Gladstone. 

Plain Edition, to 50 

Edition de luxe. ti So 

IMITATION OF THE SACRED HEART. By Rev. F. ArnoUdt, S.J. ti 25 

INCARNATION, BIRTH, AND INFANCY OF JESUS CHRIST; or, the 
Mysteries of Faith. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. net, 1 25 

INDULGENCES, A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO. Rev. P. M. Bernad, 
O.M.I. ' o 75 

IN HEAVEN WE KNOW OUR OWN. By Pere S. J. Blot. o 60 


3 


INSTRUCTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR THE CATHOLIC FATHER. 

Right Rev. Dr. A. Egger. to 75 

INSTRUCTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR THE CATHOLIC MOTHER. 
Right Rev. Dr. A. Egger. to 75 

INSTRUCTIONS. Fifty-two, on the Principal Truths of Our Holy Religion. 
By Rev. Thos. F. Ward. net, o 75 

INSTRUCTIONS FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS. By Rev. Dr. J. 
Schmitt. net , o 50 

INSTRUCTIONS ON THE COMMANDMENTS OF GOD and the Sacra- 
ments of the Church. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. 

Paper, 0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 

Cloth, 0.40; 25 copies, 6 00 

INTERIOR OF JESUS AND MARY. Grou. 2 vols., net, 2 00 

INTRODUCTION TO A DEVOUT LIFE. By St. Francis de Sales. 

Cloth, to.so; 100 copies, 30 00 

JESUS THE GOOD SHEPHERD. Right Rev. L. de Goesbriand, D.D., 
Bishop of Burlington. net, o 75 

LABORS OF THE APOSTLES, Their Teaching of the Nations. By Right 
Rev. L. DE Goesbriand, D.D., Bishop of Burlington. net, i 00 

LETTERS OF ST. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. 4 vols., each vol., net, i 25 

LETTERS OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI and General Alphabetical In- 
dex to St. Alphonsus’ Works. net, i 25 

LITTLE BOOK OF SUPERIORS. net, o 60 

LITTLE CHILD OF MARY. A Small Prayer-book, to.35; 100 copies, 21 00 
LITTLE MANUAL OF ST. ANTHONY. Illustrated. fo.6o; 100 copies, 

36 00 

LITTLE MONTH OF MAY. By Ella McMahon. Flexible, 0 25 

100 copies, 19 00 

LITTLE MONTH OF THE SOULS IN PURGATORY. 0.25; 100 copies, 

19 00 

LITTLE OFFICE OF THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 0.05; per 
100, 2 so 

LITTLE PRAYER-BOOK OF THE SACRED HEART. By Blessed Mar- 
garet Mary Alacoque. to 40 

MANIFESTATION OF CONSCIENCE. Langogne, O.M.Cap. net, 0 50 

MANUAL OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Complete Manual of Devotion of 

the Mother of God. to 60 

MANUAL OF THE HOLY EUCHARIST. Conferences on the Blessed Sac- 
rament and Eucharistic Devotions. By Rev. F. X. Lasance. to 75 

MANUAL OF THE HOLY FAMILY. to 60 

MARI^ COROLLA. Poems by Father Edmund of the Heart of Mary, C.P. 
Cloth, I 25 

MASS, THE, OUR GREATEST TREASURE. By Rev. F. X. Lasance. 
Cloth, 

MAXIMS AND COUNSELS OF FRANCIS DE SALES. 

MAY DEVOTIONS, NEW. Rev. Augustine Worth, O.S.B. 

MEANS OF GRACE. By Rev. Richard Brennan, LL.D. 

MEDITATIONS FOR ALL THE DAYS OF THE YEAR. 

Hamon, S.S. 5 vols., 

MEDITATIONS lOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR. Baxter, net, i 25 

MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR. Rev. B. Vercruysse, 
S.J. 2 VC s., net, 2 75 

MEDITATIONS FOR RETREATS. St. Francis de Sales. Cloth, net, 0 75 
MEDITATIONS FOR SECULAR PRIESTS. Chaignon, S.J. 2 vols., 

net, 4 00 

meditations on the four LAST THINGS. Father M. v. Cochem. 

o 75 

MEDITATIONS ON THE T,AST WORDS FROM THE CROSS. Father 
Charles Perraud. , || net, o 50 


to 75 
net, 0 35 
II net, I oo 
*2 50 

By Rev. M. 
net, 5 00 


4 


LIFE, THE TEACHINGS, AND THE PAS- 
SION OF JESUS CHRIST. Ilg-Clarke. 2 vols., net, 3 50 

MEDITATIONS ON THE MONTH OF OUR LADY. o 75 

^meditations on the PASSION OF OUR LORD. *0.40; 100 copies, 

24 00 
By Rev. 
net, o 75 

MISCELLANY. Historical sketch of the Congregation of the Most Holy 
Redeemer. Rules and Constitutions of the Congregation of the Most Holy 
Redeemer. Instructions on the Religious State. By St. Alphonsus de 
Liguori. net, 1 25 


*0.40; 

MEDITATIONS ON THE SUFFERINGS OF JESUS CHRIST. 

TRANCIS DA I’eRINALDO. 


MISSION BOOK FOR THE MARRIED. Very Rev. F. Girardey, C.SS.R. 
0.50; 100 copies, 25 00 

MISSION BOOK FOR THE SINGLE. Very Rev. F. Girardey, C.SS.R. 
0.50; 100 copies, 25 00 

MISSION BOOK OF THE REDEMPTORIST FATHERS. A Manual of 
Instructions and Prayers to Preserve the Fruits of the Mission. Drawn 
chiefly from the works of St. Alphonsus Liguori. 0.50; 100 copies, 25 00 


MISTRESS OF NOVICES, THE, Instructed in Her Duties. Leguay. 

net, 0 75 

MOMENTS BEFORE THE TABERNACLE. Rev. Matthew Russell, S.J. 

net, 0 40 

MONTH, NEW, OF ST. JOSEPH. St. Francis de Sales. 0 25 


MONTH, NEW, OF THE HOLY ANGELS. St. Francis de Sales. 0.25; 


100 copies, 19 00 

MONTH, NEW, OF THE SACRED HEART. St. Francis de Sales. 0 25 
MONTH OF MARY, NEW. St. Francis de Sales. o 25 

MONTH OF MAY; a Series of Meditations on the Mysteries of the Life of 
the Blessed Virgin. By F. Debussi, S.J. o 50 

MONTH OF THE DEAD; or. Prompt and Easy Deliverance of the Souls 
in Purgatory. By Abbe Cloquet. o 50 

MOST HOLY ROSARY. Thirty-one Meditations. Right Rev. W. Cramer, 
D.D. o so 

MOST HOLY SACRAMENT. Rev. Dr. Jos. Keller. 0 75 

MY FIRST COMMUNION: The Happiest Day of My Life. Brennan. 0 75 
NEW RULE OF THE THIRD ORDER. 0.05; per 100, 300 

NEW TESTAMENT. Cheap Edition. 

32mo, flexible cloth, net, o 15 

32mo, lambskin, limp, round corners, gilt edges, net, o 75 

NEW TESTAMENT. Illustrated Edition. 

24mo, garnet cloth, with 100 full-page illustrations, net, o 6a 

24mo, Rutland Roan, limp, round corners, red or gold edges, net, i 25 

NEW TESTAMENT. India Paper Edition. 

3003 Lambskin, limp, round corners, gilt edges, net, i 00 

401 1 Persian Calf, limp, round corners, gilt edges, net, i 25 

4017 Morocco, limp, round corners, gold edges, gold roll inside, net, i 50 

NEW TESTAMENT. Large Print Edition. 

i2mo, cloth, round corners, red edges, net, o 75 

i2mo, American Seal, limp, round corners, red or gold edges, net, i 50 

NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES. By Right Rev. Mgr. Thomas J. Conaty, 
D.D. i2mo, o 60 

OFFICE, COMPLETE, OF HOLY WEEK, to.so; 100 copies, 25 00 

ON THE ROAD TO ROME. By W. Richards. net, o 50 

OUR BIRTHDAY BOUQUET. E. C. Donnelly. 100. 

OUR LADY OF GOOD COUNSEL IN GENAZZANO. Mgr. Geo. F. 

Dillon, D.D. o 75 

OUR FAVORITE DEVOTIONS. By Very Rev. Dean A. A. Lings, to 60 
OUR FAVORITE NOVENAS. Very Rev. Dean A. A. Lings. to 60 


OUR MONTHLY DEVOTIONS. By Very Rev. Dean A. A. Lings. ti 25 


5 




OUR OWN WILL AND HOW TO DETECT IT IN OUR ACTIONS. 

Rev. John Allen, D.D. net, o 75 

I’ARACLETE, THE. Devotions to the Holy Ghost. llo 60 

PARADISE ON EARTH OPENED TO ALL; A Religious Vocation the 

Surest Way in Life. Py Rev. Antonio Natale, S.J. net, o 40 

PASSION AND DEATH OF JESUS CHRIST. By St. Alphonsus de 
Liguori. net, i 25 

PASSION FLOWERS. Poems by Father Edmund, of the Heart of Mary, 
C.P. I 25 

PEARLS FROM THE CASKET OF THE SACRED HEART. Eleanor C. 

Donnelly. 0 50 


PEOPLE’S MISSION BOOK, THE. Paper, 0.10; per 100, 6 00 

PERFECT RELIGIOUS, THE. De la Motte. Cloth, net, 1 00 

PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. New, very cheap edition, with 
Reflections for Every Day in the Year, i.oo; 25 copies, 17 50 

PIOUS PREPARATION FOR FIRST HOLY COMMUNION. Rev. F. X. 
Lasance. Cloth, to 75 

POPULAR INSTRUCTIONS ON MARRIAGE. Very Rev. F. Girardey, 
C.SS.R. Paper, 0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 

Cloth, 0.40; 25 copies, 6 00 

POPULAR INSTRUCTIONS ON PRAYER. By Very Rev. Ferreol 
Girardey, C.SS.R. Paper, 0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 

Cloth, 0.40; 25 copies, 6 00 

POPULAR INSTRUCTIONS TO PARENTS on the Bringing Up of Chil- 
dren. By Very Rev. F. Girardey, C.SS.R. Paper, 0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 

Cloth, 0.40; 25 copies, 6 00 


PRAYER-BOOK FOR LENT. Gethsemani, Jerusalem, and Golgotha. Rev. 
A. Geyer. to so 

PRAYER. The Great Means of Obtaining Salvation. By St. Alphonsus de 
Liguori. o 50 


PRE.XCIIING. Vol. XV. St. Alphonsus de Liguori. The Exercises of the 
Missions. Various Counsels. Instructions on the Commandments and 
Sacraments. net, i 25 

PREPARATKJN FOR DEATH. St. Alphonsus de Liguori, Considera- 
tions on the Eternal Truths. Maxims of Eternity. Rule of Life, net, i 25 


PRODIGAL SON; or, the Sinner’s Return to God. || net, 1 00 

REASONABLENESS OF CATHOLIC CEREMONIES AND PRACTICES. 
Rev. J. J. Burke. *0 35 

RELIGIOUS STATE, THE. With a Treatise on the Vocation to the Priest- 
hood. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. o 50 


REVELATIONS OF THE SACRED HEART to Blessed Margaret Mary. 


Bougaud. Cloth, net, i so 

SACRAMENTALS OF THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. Rev. A. A. 
Lambing, D.D. Paper, 0.30; 25 copies, 4 50 

Cloth, 0.60; 25 copies, 9 00 

SACRAMENTALS — Prayer, etc. By Rev. M. Muller, C.SS.R. || net, i 00 
SACRED HEART, THE. Rev. Dr. Joseph Keller. o 75 

SACRED HEART, THE, Studied in the Sacred Scriptures. Rev. H. Saint- 
rain, C.SS.R. net, 2 00 

SACRIFICE OF THE MASS WORTHILY CELEBRATED, THE. By 
Rev. Father Chaignon, S.J. net, 1 50 

SECRET OF SANCTITY. St. Francis de Sales, net, i 00 

SERAPHIC GUIDE, THE. A Manual for the Members of the Third Order 
of St. Francis. By a Franciscan Father. to 60 

SHORT CONFERENCES ON THE LITTLE OFFICE OF THE IM- 
MACULATE CONCEPTION. Very Rev. J. Rainer. 0 50 

SHORT STORIES ON CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. From the French by 
Mary McMahon. net, 0 75 

SPIRITUAL CRUMBS FOR HUNGRY LITTLE SOULS. Mary E. 
Richardson. o 50 

SPIRITUAL DIRECTION. , net, 0 60 


6 


i 


SPIRITUAL EXERCISES FOR TEN DAYS’ RETREAT. Very Rev. v. 
Smetana, C.SS.R. i oo 

SODALISTS’ VADE MECUM. {o 50 

SONGS AND SONNETS. By Maurice Francis Egan. i 00 

SOUVENIR OF THE NOVITIATE. By Rev. Edward I. Taylor, net, 0 60 
ST. ANTHONY. Rev. Dr. Jos. Keller. o 75 

ST. JOSEPH, OUR ADVOCATE. By Father Huguet. 0 90 

STATIONS OF THE CROSS. Illustrated. to 50 

STORIES FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS. Rev. J. A. Keller, D.D. o 50 
STRIVING AFTER PERFECTION. Rev. Joseph Bayma, S.J. net, i 00 


SURE WAY TO A HAPPY MARRIAGE. Rev. Edward I. Taylor. 

Paper, '0.25; 25 copies, 3 75 

Cloth, 0.40; 25 copies, 6 00 


THIRTY-TWO INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE MONTH OF MAY. Rev. 


Thomas F. Ward. uet, o 75 

THOUGHT FROM BENEDICTINE SAINTS. net, 0 35 

THOUGHT FROM ST. ALPHONSUS. net, o 35 

THOUGHT FROM ST.. FRANCIS OF ASSISI and His Saints. net, o 35 

THOUGHT FROM ST. IGNATIUS. net, 0 35 

THOUGHT FROM ST. THERESA. net, 0 35 

THOUGHT FROM ST. VINCENT DE PAUL. net, o 35 


THOUGHTS AND COUNSELS for the Consideration of Catholic Young 
Men. Rev. P. A. Doss, S.J. || net, i 25 

TRUE POLITENESS. Abbe Francis Demore. net, o Co 

TRUE SPOUSE OF JESUS CHRIST. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. 2 
vols.. Centenary Edition, net, 2 50 

The same in i volume, net, i 00 


TWO SPIRITUAL RETREATS FOR SISTERS. By Rev. E. Zollner. 

net, I 00 


VENERATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Her Feasts, Prayers, Re- 
ligious Orders, and Sodalities. By Rev. B. Rohner, O.S.B. i 25 


VICTORIES OF THE MARTYRS; or, the Lives of the Most Celebrated 
Martyrs of the Church. Vol. IX. By Alphonsus de Liguori. net, 1 25 


VISITS TO JESUS IN THE TABERNACLE. Hours and Half Hours of 
Adoration before the Blessed Sacrament. With a Novena to the Holy 
Ghost and Devotions for Mass, Holy Communion, etc. Rev. F. X. La- 
sance. Cloth, ti 25 

VISITS TO THE MOST HOLY SACRAMENT and to the Blessed V^irgin 
Mary. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. to 50 

VOCATIONS EXPLAINED: Matrimony, Virginity, The Religious State, 

and the Priesthood. By a Vincentian Father, o.io; 100 copies, 6 00 

WAY OF INTERIOR PEACE. By Rev. Father De Lehen, S.J. net, i 25 

WAY OF SALVATION AND PERFECTION. Meditations, Pious Reflec- 
tions, Spiritual Treatises. .St. Alphonsus de Liguori. net, i 25 

WAY OF THE CROSS. Paper, 0.05; 100 copies, 2 50 

WORDS OF JESUS CHRIST DURING HIS PA.SSION. Explained in 
Their Literal and Moral Sense. By Rev. F. X. Schouppe, S.J. *0.25; 100 
copies, 17 00 

WORDS OF WISDOM. A Concordance to the Sapiential Books. Edited by 
Rev. John J. Bell. net, 1 25 

YEAR OF THE SACRED HEART. A Thought for Every Day of the Year. 
Anna T. Sadlier. o 50 

YOUNG GIRLS’ BOOK OF PIETY, AT SCHOOL AND AT HOME. A 
Prayer-book for Girls in Convent Schools and Academies. Golden Sands. 

t» 00 

ZEAL IN THE WORK OF THE MINISTRY; The Means by which Ever^ 
Priest May Render His Ministry Honorable and Fruitful. By Abbe 
Dubois. ^ So 


JUVENILES. 

ADVENTURES OF A CASKET. o 45 

ADVENTURES OF A FRENCH CAPTAIN. o 45 

AN ADVENTURE WITH THE APACHES. By Gabriel Ferry. o 40 

ANTHONY. A Tale of the Time of Charles II. of England. 0 45 

ARMORER OF SOLINGEN. By William Herchenbach. o 40 

BERTHA; or, Consequences of a Fall. 0 45 

BEST FOOT FORWARD. By Father Finn. o 85 

BETTER PART. 0 45 

BISTOURI. By A. Melandri. o 40 

BLACK LADY, AND ROBIN RED BREAST. By Canon Schmid. 0 25 

BLANCHE DE MASSILLY. 0 45 

BLISSYLVANIA POST-OFFICE. By Marion Ames Taggart. o 40 

BOYS IN THE BLOCK. By Maurice F. Egan. 0 25 

BRIC-A-BRAC DEALER. o 45 

BUZZER’S CHRISTMAS. By Mary T. Waggaman. o 25 

BY BRANSCOME river. By Marion Ames Taggart. o 40 

CAKE AND THE EASTER EGGS. By Canon Schmid. o 25 

CANARY BIRD. By Canon Schmid. 0 45 

CAPTAIN ROUGEMONT. o 45 

CASSILDA; or the Moorish Princess. o 45 

CAVE BY THE BEECH FORK, THE. By Rev. H. S. Spalding, S.J. 
Cloth, o 85 

CLAUDE LIGHTFOOT; or. How the Problem Was Solved. By Father 
Finn. o 85 

COLLEGE BOY, A. By Anthony Yorke. Cloth, o 85 

CONVERSATION ON HOME EDUCATION. o 45 

DIMPLING’S SUCCESS. By Clara Mulholland. 0 40 

EPISODES OF THE PARIS COMMUNE. An Account of the Religious 
Persecution. o 45 

ETHELRED PRESTON; or the Adventures of a Newcomer. By Father 
Finn. o 85 

EVERY-DAY GIRI^, AN. By Mary C. Crowley. o 40 

FATAL DIAMONDS. By E. C. Donnelly. o 25 

FINN. REV. F. J.. S.J.: 

HIS FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. Illustrated. i 00 

THE BEST FOOT FORWARD. o 85 

THAT FOOTBALL GAME. o 85 

ETHELRED PRESTON. o 85 

CLAITDE LIGHTFOOT. o 8<; 

HARRY DEE. o 8s 

TOM PLAYFAIR. o 85 

PERCY WYNN. o 8s 

MOSTLY BOYS. o 85 

FISHERMAN’S DAUGHTER. o 45 

FIVE O’CLOCK STORIES; or. The Old Tales Told Again. o 75 

FLOWER OF THE FLOCK, THE, and the Badgers of Belmont. By 
Maurice F. Egan. 0 85 

FRED’S LITTLE DAUGHTER. By Sara Trainer Smith. o 40 

GERTRUDE’S EXPERIENCE. o 45 

GODEREY THE HERMIT. By Canon Schmid. o 25 

GREAT-GRANDMOTHER’S SECRET. o 45 

HARRY DEE; or. Working it Out. By Father Finn. o 85 

HEIR OF DREAMS, AN. By Sallie Margaret O’Malley, o 40 

HER FATHER’S RIGHT HAND. o 45 


8 


HIS FIRST AND LAST APPEARANCE. By Father Finn. i oo 

HOP BLOSSOMS. By Canon Schmid. o 25 

HOSTAGE OF WAR, A. By Mary G. Bonesteel. o 40 

HOW THEY WORKED THEIR WAY. By Maurice F. Egan. o 75 

INUNDATION, THE. Canon Schmid. o 40 

JACK HILDRETH ON THE NILE. By Marion Ames Taggart. Cloth, 

o 85 

JACK O’ LANTERN. By Mary T. Waggaman. 0 40 

KLONDIKE PICNIC. By Eleanor C. Donnelly. o 85 

LAMP OF THE SANCTUARY. By Cardinal Wiseman. o 25 

LEGENDS OF THE HOLY CHILD JESUS from Many Lands. By A. 
Fowler Lutz. o 75 

LITTLE MISSY. By Mary T. Waggaman. o 40 

LOYAL BLUE AND ROYAL SCARLET. By Marion A. Taggart. o 85 
MADCAP SET AT ST. ANNE’S. By Marion J. Brunowe. o 40 

MARCELLE. A True Story. o 45 

MASTER FRIDOLIN. By Emmy Giehrl. o 25 

MILLY AVELING. By Sara Trainer Smith. Cloth, o 85 

MOSTLY BOYS. By Father Finn. o 85 

MYSTERIOUS DOORWAY. By Anna T. Sadlier. o 40 

MY STRANGE FRIEND. By Father Finn. o 25 

NAN NOBODY. By Mary T. Waggaman. o 40 

OLD CHARLMONT’S SEED-BED. By Sara Trainer Smith. o 40 

OLD ROBBER’S CASTLE. By Canon Schmid. 0 25 

OLIVE AND THE LITTLE CAKES. 0 45 

OVERSEER OF MAHLBOURG. By Canon Schmid. o 25 

PANCHO AND PANCHITA. By Mary E. Mannix. o 40 

PAULINE ARCHER. By Anna T. Sadlier. o 40 

PERCY WYNN; or. Making a Boy of Him. By Father Finn. 085 

PICKLE AND PEPPER. By Ella Loraine Dorsey. 0 85 

PRIEST OF AUVRIGNY. 0 45 

QUEEN’S PAGE. By Katharine Tynan Hinkson. 0 40 

RICHARD; or. Devotion to the Stuarts. 0 45 

ROSE BUSH. By Canon Schmid. 0 25 

SEA-GULL’S ROCK. By J. Sandeau. o 40 

SUMMER AT WOODVILLE. By Anna T. Sadlier. 0 40 

TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE MIDDLE AGES. F. De Capella. o 75 

TAMING OF POLLY. By Ella Loraine Dorsey. o 85 

THAT FOOTBALL GAME: and What Came of It. By Father Finn. 085 
THREE GIRLS AND ESPECIALLY ONE. By Marion A. Taggart, o 40 

THREE LITTLE KINGS. By Emmy Giehrl. 0 25 

TOM PLAYFAIR; or. Making a Start. By Father Finn. 0 85 

TOM’S LUCKPOT. By Mary T. Waggaman. o 40 

TREASURE OF NUGGET MOUNTAIN. By M. A. Taggart. o 85 

VILLAGE STEEPLE, THE. 0 45 

WINNETOU, THE APACHE KNIGHT. By Marion Ames Taggart. 0 85 

WRONGFULLY ACCUSED. By William Herchenbach. 0 40 

NOVELS AND STORIES. 

ASER, THE SHEPHERD. A Christmas Story. By Marion Ames Taggart. 

net, 0 35 

BEZALEEL. A Christmas Story. By Marion Ames Taggart. net, o 35 
CIRCUS RIDER’S DAUGHTER, THE. A Novel. By F. v. Brackel. i 25 

Q 


CONNOR D’ARCY’S STRUGGLES. A Novel. By Mrs. W. M. Bertholds. 


I 25 

DION AND THE SIBYLS. A Classic Novel. By Miles Keon. Cloth, i 25 
FABIOLA; or, The Church of the Catacombs. By Cardinal Wiseman. Pop- 
ular Illustrated Edition, 0.90; Edition de luxe, 5 00 

FABIOLA’S SISTERS. A Companion Volume to Cardinal Wiseman’s 
“ Fabiola.” By A. C. Clarke. i 25 

HEIRESS OF CRONENSTEIN, THE. By the Countess Hahn-Hahn. i 25 

IDOLS; or. The Secrets of the Rue Chausee d’Antin. De Navery. ^ i 25 
LET NO MAN PUT ASUNDER. A Novel. By Josephine Marie. i 00 

LINKED LIVES. A Novel. By Lady Gertrude Douglas. i 50 

MARCELLA GRACE. A Novel. By Rosa Mulholland. Illustrated Edi- 
tion. I 25 

MISS ERIN. A Novel. By M. E. Francis. i 25 

MONK’S PARDON, THE. A Historical Novel of the Time of Phillip IV. 
of Spain. By Raoul de Navery. 1 25 

MR. BILLY BUTTONS. A Novel. By Walter Lecky. i 25 

OUTLAW OF CAMARGUE, THE. A Novel. By A. de Lamothe. i 25 

PASSING SHADOWS. A Novel. By Anthony Yorke. i 25 

PERE MONNIER’S WARD. A Novel. By Walter Lecky. i 25 

PETRONILLA. By E. C. Donnelly. i 00 

PRODIGAL’S DAUGHTER, THE. By Lelia Hardin Bugg. i 00 

ROMANCE OF A PLAYWRIGHT. By Vte. Henri de Bornier. i 00 


ROUND TABLE OF THE REPRESENTATIVE AMERICAN CATHOLIC 
NIOV’ELISTS. Complete Stories, with Biographies, Portraits, etc. Cloth, 

I 50 

ROUND TABLE OF THE REPRESENTATIVE FRENCH CATHOLIC 
NOVELISTS. Complete Stories, with Biographies, Portraits, etc. Cloth, 

1 50 

ROUND TABLE OF THE REPRESENTATIVE IRISH AND ENGLISH 
CATHOLIC NOVELISTS. Complete Stories, Biographies, Portraits, etc. 
Cloth. I so 

’fRUE STORY OF MASTER GERARD, THE. By Anna T. Sadlier. i 25 
VOCATION OF EDWARD CONWAY. A Novel. By Maurice F. Egan. 

I 25 

WOMAN OF FORTUNE, A. By Christian Reid. i 25 

WORLD WELL LOST. By Esther Robertson. o 75 

0 


LIVES AND HISTORIES. 

autobiography OF ST. IGNATIUS LOYOLA. Edited by J. F. X. 
O’Conor. Cloth, net, i 25 

RLESSED ONES OF 1888, THE. Bl. Clement Maria Hoffbauer, C.SS.R. ; 
Bl. Louis Marie Grignon de Monfort; Bl. Brother Aegidius Mary of St. 
Joseph; Bl. Josephine Mary of St. Agnes. From the original by Eliza A. 
Donnelly. With Illustrations, 0 50 

HISTORIOGRAPIII A ECCLESIASTICA quam Historiae seriam Solidamque 
Operam Navantibus, Accomodavit Guil. Stang, D.D. || net, i 00 

HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. Brueck. 2 vols., net, 3 00 
HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. By John Gilmary Shea, 
LL.D. I so 

HISTORY OF THE PROTESTANT REFORMATION IN ENGLAND 
AND IRELAND. By Wm. Cobbett. Cloth, net, 0.50; paper, net, 0 2$ 

LETTERS OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. By Rev. Eugene Grimm, 
C.SS.R. Centenary Edition. 5 vols., each, net, 1 25 

LIFE OF BLESSED MARGARET MARY. By Mgr. Bougaud, Bishop of 
Laval. net, 1 50 

LIFE OF CHRIST. Illustrated. By Father M. v. Cochem. i 25 

10 


LIFE OF FATHER CHARLES SIRE, of the Society of Jesus. By Rev. 
Vital Sire. j qq 

LIFE OF FATHER JOGUES, Missionary Priest of the Society of Jesus. By 
Father F. Martin, S.J. net, o 75 

LIFE OF FR. FRANCIS POILVACHE, C.SS.R. Paper, net, 0 20 

LIFE OF MOTHER FONTBONNE, Foundress of the Sisters of St. Joseph 
of Lyons. By Abbe Rivaux. Cloth, net, 1 25 

LIFE OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST. Cloth, net, 5 00 

LIFE OF SISTER ANNE KATHERINE EMMERICH, of the Order of St. 
Augustine. By Rev. Thomas Wegener, O.S.A. net, i 50 

LIFE OF ST. ALOYSIUS GONZAGA. Edition de luxe. By Rev. Father 
Virgil Cepari, S.J. net, 2 50 

LIFE OF ST. ALOYSIUS GONZAGA, of the Society of Jesus. By Rev. J. 

F. X. O’CoNOR, S.J. , net, o 75 

LIFE OF ST. CATHARINE OF SIENNA. By Edward L. Ayme, M.D. ||i 00 
LIFE OF ST. CLARE OF MONTEFALCO. Locke, O.S.A. net, o 75 

LIFE OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Illustrated. By Rev. B. Rohner, 
O.S.B. I 25 

LIFE OF THE VEN. MARY CRESCENTIA HOESS. By Rev. C. Dey- 
MANN, O.S.F. net, 1 25 

LITTLE LIVES OF SAINTS FOR CHILDREN. Berthold. 111 . Cloth, 

0 75 

LOURDES: Its Inhabitants, Its Pilgrims, Its Miracles. By Rev. R. F. 

Clarke, S.J. o 75 

NAMES THAT LIVE IN CATHOLIC HEARTS. By Anna T. Sadlier. 

1 00 


OUR BIRTHDAY BOUQUET, By Eleanor C. Donnelly. i 00 

OUR LADY OF GOOD COUNSEL IN GENAZZANO. A History of that 
Ancient Sanctuary. By Anne R. Bennett-Gladstone. o 75 

OUTLINES OF JEWISH HISTORY, From Abraham to Our Lord. Rev. 

F. E. Gigot, S.S. II net, i 50 

OUTLINES OF NEW TESTAMENT HISTORY. By Rev. F. E. Gigot, S.S. 

Cloth, net, i 50 

PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. Cloth, i.oo; 25 copies, 17 50 

REMINISCENCES OF RT. REV. EDGAR P. WADHAMS, D.D., First 
Bishop of Ogdensburg. By Rev. C. A_. Walworth. || net, i 00 

ST. ANTHONY, THE SAINT OF THE WHOLE WORLD. Rev. Thomas 
F. Ward. Cloth, o 75 

STORY OF THE DIVINE CHILD. By Very Rev. Dean A. A. Lings, o 75 
VICTORIES OF THE MARTYRS. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. net, 125 
VISIT TO EUROPE AND THE HOLY LAND. By Rev. H. Fairb.\nks. 

I so 

WIDOWS AND CHARITY. Work of the Women of Calvary and Its 
Foundress. Abbe Chaffanjon. Paper, |1 net, 0 50 

WOMEN OF CATHOLICITY. By Anna T. Sadlier. ^ i 00 


THEOLOGY, LITURGY. SERMONS, SCIENCE AND 

PHILOSOPHY. 

ABRIDGED SERMONS, for All Sundays of the Year. By St. Alphonsus 
DE Liguori. Centenary Edition. Grimm, C.SS.R. net, i 25 

BAD CHRISTIAN, THE. By Rev, F. Hunolt, S.J. Translated by Rev. J. 
Allen, D.-^. 2 vols., net, 5 00 

BLESSED SJ.CRAMENT, SERMONS ON THE. Especially for the Forty 
Hours’ Adoration. By Rev. j. J. Scheurir, D.D. Edited by Rev. F. X. 
Lasance. I 50 

BREVE COMPENDIUM THEOLOGIAE DOGMATICAE ET MORALTS 
una cum aliquibus Notionibus Theologiae Canonicae Liturgiae, Pastoralis 
et Mysticae, ac Philosophiae Christianae. Berthier, M.S. || net, 2 50 

IX 


BUSINESS GUIDE FOR PRIESTS. Stang, D.D. net, o 85 

CANONICAL PROCEDURE IN DISCIPLINARY AND CRIMINAL 

CASES OF CLERICS. By Rev. F. Droste. net, i 50 

CHILDREN OF MARY, SERMONS FOR THE. From the Italian of Rev. 
F. Callerio. Edited by Rev. R. F. Clarke, S.J. net, 1 50 

CHRISTIAN ANTHROPOLOGY. Sermons. By Rev. John Thein. net, 2 50 

CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY. A Treatise on the Human Soul. By Rev. J. 
T. Driscoll, S.T.L. net, 1 25 

CHRISTIAN’S LAST END, THE. Sermons. By Rev. F. Hunolt, S.J. 
Translated by Rev. J. Allen, D.D. 2 vols., net, 5 00 

CHRISTIAN’S MODEL, THE. Sermons. By Rev. F. Hunolt, S.J. Trans- 
lated by Rev. J. Allen, D.D. 2 vols., net, 5 00 

CHRISTIAN STATE OF LIFE, THE. Sermons. By Rev. F. Hunolt, S.J. 
Translated by Rev. J. Allen, D.D. net, 5 00 

CHRIST IN TYPE AND PROPHECY. Rev. A. J. Maas, S.J., Professor 
of Oriental Languages in Woodstock College. 2 vols., net, 4 00 

CHURCH ANNOUNCEMENT BOOK. net, 0 25 

CHURCH TREASURER’S PEW. Collection and Receipt Book. net, i 00 

COMMENTARIUM IN FACULTATES APOSTOLICAS EPISCOPIS 
necnon Vicariis et Praefectis Apostolicis per Modum Formularum concedi 
solitas ad usum Venerabilis Cleri, imprimis Americani concinnatum ab 
Antonio Konings, C.SS.R. Editio quarto, recognita in pluribus emendata 
et aucta, curante Joseph Putzer, C.SS.R. net, 2 25 

COMPENDIUM JURIS CANONICI, ad usum Cleri et Seminariorum hujus 
Regionis accommodatum. net, 2 00 

COMPENDIUM SACRAE LITURGIAE JUNTA RITUM ROMANUM 
una cum Appendice de Jure Ecclesiastico Particulari in America Foederata 
Sept, vigente scripsit P. Innocentius Wapelhorst, O.S.F. Editio quinta 
emendatior. net, 2 50 

CONFESSIONAL, THE. By the Right Rev. A. Roeggl, D.D. || net, i 00 
DATA OF MODERN ETHICS EXAMINED. Ming, S.J. net, 2 00 

DE PHILOSOPHIA MORALI PRAELECTIONES quas in Collegio 
Georgiopolitano Soc. Jesu, Anno 1889-90 Habuit P. Nicolaus Russo. 
Editio altera. net, 2 00 

ECCLESIASTICAL DICTIONARY. By Rev. John Thein. || net, 5 00 

ELEMENTS OF ECCLESIASTICAL LAW. By Rev. S. B. Smith, D.D. 
ECCLESIASTICAL PERSONS. net, 2 50 

ECCLESIASTICAL PUNISHMENTS. net, 2 50 

ECCLESIASTICAL TRIALS. net, 2 50 

fUNERAL SERMONS. By Rev. Aug. Wirth, O.S.B. 2 vols., || net, 2 00 

GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF HOLY SCRIP- 
TURES. By Rev. Francis E. Gigot, S.S. Cloth, net, 2 00 

GOD KNOWABLE AND KNOWN. By Rev. Maurice Ronayne, S.J. 

net, i 25 

GOOD CHRISTIAN, THE. By Rev. J. Allen, D.D. 2 vols., net, 5 00 

HISTORY OF THE MASS AND ITS CEREMONIES IN THE EASTERN 
AND WESTERN CHURCH. By Rev. John O’Brien. net, i 25 

LAST THINGS, SERMONS ON THE FOUR. Hunolt. Translated by 
Rev. John Allen, D.D. 2 vols., net, 5 00 

LENTEN SERMONS. Edited by Augustine Wirth, O.S.B. || net, 2 00 

LIBER STATUS ANIMARUM; or, Parish Census Book. Pocket Edition, 
net, 0.25; half leather, net, 2 00 

LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, AND POLITICAL VIEWS OF ORESTES A. 
BROWNSON. By H. F. Brownson. net, 1 25 

MARRIAGE PROCESS IN THE UNITED STATES. Smith. net, 2 50 

R.DRAL PRINCIPLES AND MEDICAL PRACTICE, THE BASIS OF 
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE. By Rev. Charles Coppens, S.J., Pro- 
fessor of Medical Jurisprudence in the John A. Creighton Medical College, 
Omaha, Neb.; Author of Text-books in Metaphysics, Ethics, etc. net, i 50 

12 


NATURAL LAW AND LEGAL RRACTICE. H(u.a.m». s 
NAIURAL 1 IIE( )L( Hi Y. By B. Boeuder, S.J. 

NEW AND or>D SERMONS. A Repertory of Catliolic 
Edited by Rev. Augustine Wirth, O.S.B. 8 vols., 

OI'blCE OF dENEBRAE, d'HE. Transposed from the 
into Modern Notation. By Rev. J. A. McCallen, S.S. 


J. net, i 75 

net, I 50 
I’ulpit Eloquence. 

II net, 16 00 
Gregorian Chant 
net, 0 50 


OUR LORD, THE BLESSED VIRGIN, AND THE SAINTS, SERMONS 
ON. By Rev. Francis Hunolt, S.J. Translated by Rev. John Allen, 
D.D. 2 vols., net, 5 00 

OUTLINES OF DOGMATIC THEOLOGY. By Rev. Sylvester Jos. 
Hunter, S.J. 3 vols., net, 4 50 

OUTLINES OF NEW TESTAMENT HISTORY. Vigot. Cloth, net, i 50 
PASTORAL THEOLOGY. By Rev. Wm. Stang, D.D. net, 1 50 

PEN.ANCE, SERMONS ON. By Rev. P'rancis Hunolt, S.J. Translated by 
Rev. John Allen. 2 vols., net, 5 00 

PENITENT CHRISTIAN, THE. Sermons. By Rev. F. Hunolt. Trans> 
lated by Rev. John Allen, D.D. 2 vols., net, 5 00 

PEW-RENT RECEIPT BOOK. net, i 00 

'PRAXIS SYNODALIS. Manuale Synodi Diocesanae ac Provincialis Cele- 
brandae. net, o 60 

PRIEST IN THE PULPIT, THE. A Manual of Homiletics and Catechetics. 
Rev. B. Luebermann. net, 1 50 


PRINCIPLES OF ANTHROPOLOGY AND BIOLOGY. By Rev. T. 
Hughes, S.J. net, 0 75 

REGISTRUM BAPTISMORUM. net, 3 50 

REGISTRUM MATRIMONIORUM. net, 3 50 

RITUALE COMPENDIOSUM seu Ordo Administrandi quaedam Sacra- 
menta et alia Officia Ecclesiastica Rite Peragendi ex Rituali Romano, 
novissime edito desumptas. net, 0 75 

ROSARY, SERMONS ON THE MOST HOLY. Frings. net, 100 

SACRED HEART, SIX SERMONS ON DEVOTION TO THE. By Rev. 
Dr. E. Bierbaum. net, o 60 

SANCTUARY BOYS’ ILI.USTRATED MANUAL. Embracing the Cere- 
monies of the Inferior Ministers at Low Mass, High Mass, Solemn High 
M ass. Vespers, Asperges, Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament and Ab- 
solution for the Dead. By Rev. J. A. McCallen, S.S. net, 0 50 

SERMON MANUSCRIPT BOOK. net, 2 00 

SERMONS FOR THE SUNDAYS AND CHIEF FESTIVALS OF THE 
ECCLESIASTICAL YEAR. With Two Courses of Lenten Sermons and 
a Triduum for the Forty Hours. By Rev. J. Pottgeiser, S.J. 2 vols.. 

net, 2 so 

SERMONS ON THE CHRISTIAN VIRTUES. By Rev. F. Hunolt, S.J. 
Translated by Rev. John Allen. 2 vols., net, 5 00 

SERMONS ON THE DIFFERENT STATES OF LIFE. By Rev. F. 
Hunolt, S.J. Translated by Rev. John Allen. 2 vols., net, 5 00 


SERMONS ON THE SEVEN DEADLY Sr NS. By Rev. F. Hunolt, S.J 


2 vols. Translated by Rev. John .'Cllen, D.D. net, 5 00 

SHORT SERMONS. By Rev. F. Hunolt, S.J. 5 vols., 10 oa 

SHORT SERMONS FOR LOW MASSES. Schouppe, S.J. net, i 25 

SYNOPSIS THEOLOGIAE DOGMATICAE AD MENTEM S. THOMAli 
AOUINATIS, hodiernis moribus accommodata, auctore Ad. Tanquerey, 
S.S.: 

I. THEOLOGLA FUNDAMENTALIS. Half morocco, net, i 50 


2. THEOLOGIA DOGMATICA SPECIALIS. 2 vols., half morocco, net, 3 00 

THEOLOGIA MORALIS NOVTSSIMI ECCLESIAE DOCTORIS AL- 
PHONSI. In Compendium Redacta, et Usuf Venerabilis Cleri American! 
accomodata. Auctore Rev. A. Konings, C.SS R. Editio 'septima, auctior 
et novis curis expolitior curante Henrico Kurer, C-SS.R, 2 vols., 

4 00 


15 


TWO-EDCiED SWORD. By Rev, Augustine Wirth, O.S.B. Paper, nr/, o 25 

V^ADE MECUM SACERDOTUM, continens Preces ante et post Missam, 
modum providendi infirmos, necnon multas Benedictionum Formulas. 
Cloth, net, 0.25; Morocco flexible, net, 0 50 

WHAT CATHOLICS HAVE DONE FOR SCIENCE. With Sketches of the 
Great Catholic Scientists. By Rev. Martin S. Brennan. i 00 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


A GENTLEMAN. By M. F. Egan, LL.D, 0 75 

A LADY. Manners and Social Usages. By Lelia Hardin Bugg, o 75 

AIDS TO CORRECT AND EFFECTIVE ELOCUTION. With Selected 
Readings. By Eleanor O'Grady. i 25 

BONE RULES; or, Skeleton of English Grammar. By Rev. T. B. Tabb, 
A.M. o 50 

CANTATA CATHOLICA. By B. H. F, Hellebusch. || net, 2 00 

CATECHISM OF FAMILIAR THINGS. Their History, and the Events 
which Led to Their Discovery. With a Short Explanation of Some of the 
Principal Natural Phenomena. i 00 

CATHOLIC HOME ANNUAL. Stories by Best Writers. 025 

CORRECT THING FOR CATHOLICS, THE. By Lelia Hardin Bugg. 0 75 

ELOCUTION CLASS. A Simplification of the Laws and Principles of Ex- 
pression. By Eleanor O’Grady. net, o 50 

EVE OF THE REFORMATION, THE. An Historical Essay on the Re- 
ligious, Literary, and Social Condition of Christendom, with Special Ref- 
erence to Germany and England, from the Beginning of the Latter Half 
of the Fifteenth Century to the Outbreak of the Religious Revolt. By the 
Rev. Wm. Stang. Paper, || net, 0 25 

GAMES OF CATHOLIC AMERICAN 'AUTHORS: 

PICTORIAL GAME OF CATHOLIC AMERICAN AUTHORS. 

Series A, net, o 15 

Series B, net, 0 15 

GAMES OF QUOTATIONS FROM CATHOLIC AMERICAN AUTHORS. 
Series I., net, o 15 

Series II., net, o 15 

Series III., net, 0 15 

GUIDE FOR SACRISTANS and Others Having Charge of the Altar and 

Sanctuary. By a ISIember of an Altar Society. net, 0 75 

HOW TO GET ON. By Rev. Bernard Feeney. i 00 

LITTLE FOLKS’ ANNUAL. 0.05; per 100, 3 00 

ON CHRISTIAN ART. By Edith IIealy. 0 50 

READING AND THE MIND, WITH SOMETHING TO READ. By J. F. 

X. O’CoNOR, S.J. / II we/, 0 50 

READINGS AND RECITATIONS FOR JUNIORS. O’Grady. net, 0 50 


SELECT RECITATIONS FOR CATHOLIC 
EMIES. By Eleanor O’Grady. 

14 


SCHOOLS AND 


ACAD- 
1 00 


I 


'ol /c 

« i 


85 93 












•a 





^ ^ <» -o-> CX A 

e«> »»«»’ <!- »^*o,\‘’*'^ 


'<• 'O^ ' 

P ^ov <» 

: *, 

. .Ao’ 

»n * ^ 


O^ cONOit -t-Q ** ^ 
« 


1 -^ > . 0 >, - 6 .^ ^'‘ <* 



<JV - o, 

I 

V ,> t* e# ^ ^ • 'wijM' .-^ , ' 

■-■*^fV° ’ V * ’ 

o 



•k Xy 




^ /V 7 * 

<» A> o 



/ 

^ M ^ 


hlO"^ ^ 5 ^ 0 » ^ 4 T o A 

*»Ov» 4 :^ ^ 



o 

* 

P" ^ o ' '^^1 ^ rs *i* 

“ SS t. ? 

r *f 



o ^ 

P ^v <» 

»> .O^J «■ 

V V <}\ •/> 

•j» o «** 

»" V .» 

!V « .^MiStt^ a 


, V >.a . C^ a* 

.* ^ '-> *■ 





^ 'O^ 

«r Q ❖ 

• ov • 
o^ % ' 


* W 





\ “o^^aT ^<i? 

50 ^ • ^mbM * ap^ 



v>. * 


<:'" *>!k:>^ “““ v<- . ofo. 


o 
« 

^ * o^ 4 i ^ 

L « OV « 



'«ii « 




^ n*^ ^ ''K>^ ^ ^ 

5 $-° » • * *»«“’ , 

^ Ag^^ThlS^ ^Jtk ^ -V >> t* 


t 

* jp'' ♦T^' A 

‘■'f '^o. ^*‘-" 

- vj> '^€^S!l^k''<* *^0, ■*■ ' 

• it •”!»b; «■■" 

° . . , 


p p 




ft 


“ <^\, ^ \ o^W*” ^ 4 

f ‘^^E@ “ s^ J * <.0 * » *o-/'i ^ s 


, o r<^ ^ ft aA\J 2 w/% o o 

\% ^y Z% 

✓ ^ -V z ^>^>Virrr33rvvv^ ^ c^ t\ ^ x:^^*i»r^::^ ts ^ 


h O ^<PoC^ ^ r* ^ z ' 

' '•<^^’ 1 % « <«vAfS^ 

*m^\ ;4fflM' ^ 





Vo o^^; V<v j 

f ® ® *• '^Ah ♦ ®H® ^ ^ ^ 

^ , 5 ^ 


HECKMAN 

BINDERY INC. , 

,DEC 92 


^ N\ RB //I, ' <• V ^ ^Vfiijtifl/VK' w >%' 

« -s^^v o * aV «A< 

y **\<^ «.« '■“*t%l'‘ * '’ 



T-d’ 

' "WSSi*'» V^°‘'“/% ’♦'* 

/; ‘ 

L_e ^ ^ 











